#whatever man. I didn’t do anything ‘wrong’

[uluvjay]

Beg for it-A. Xhekaj

Arber Xhekaj x fem! Reader

Request: Could you write something about Arber getting teased until he’s desperate to go down on you?

Warnings?; Smut, oral (f receiving), begging, lots of teasing, cursing, kissing.

“Baby.�� Arber grumbled from below you large hands gripping the cushion under him in a death grip.

“Say it..or you don’t get anything.” You smirked from above up, manicured nails running over his chiseled stomach.

His head dips back in frustration, he has you on top of him, wearing nothing but one of his practice shirts, right in his reach but there was nothing he could do.

Not a damn thing until he begged.

But Arber didn’t beg.

No he was the one that made you beg, the one who controlled how many orgasms you got, it was him who decided when you got what you wanted.

But he’d made a bet with you, an oh so stupid bet.

He promised you that if you could go the whole week without touching yourself while he was away on his roadie then he’d let you take the lead one night.

And by some miracle you lasted, how you weren’t sure but if there was one thing you’ve wanted for a long time it was for Arber to be under your control for once, and tonight you got that.

He’d tried getting you spread out on the couch after dinner pushing your shirt up and parking himself between your thighs but you were quick to pinch them closed and push him back.

The man was lost, confused, and sort of hurt when you denied him. Multiple thoughts ran through his head as you sat up, had he done something wrong? Gone too fast?, did he hurt you somehow when he laid you down?

But he quickly got his answer when you moved to straddle his waist arms looping around his neck and spoke five words that he assumed were a joke until he saw your face.

“I want you to beg for it.” You spoke again after his laughter calmed down.

“Your serious?” He raised a brow.

“Deadly, you said if I went the week without touching myself then I could be in control and I did just that.” shrugging you continued on.

“So beg for it big guy, or you get nothing.” You smirked dipping your head down to place soft kisses against the soft skin of his throat.

To say Arber was shocked would be an understatement, he was baffled, truly, but he also couldn’t deny the fire that burned in the bottom of his stomach at how bossy you were being.

That led you to now, ten minutes later and you still hadn’t let him even touch you all because he wouldn’t ask politely and beg for what he wanted.

“If you want it bad enough you’ll ask for it baby, be a good boy for me.” You bit your lip at the way he grumbled below you, eyes dark with lust.

Truly if he wanted all he had to do was flip you over, pin your hands above your head and rut his thick cock against your aching core and you’d be putty in his hands, giving him whatever he asked for and you both knew it.

But he was choosing to indulge in your antics and you appreciated that.

He closed his eyes taking a deep breath before he finally against all of his dominant instincts muttered the sweet words you oh so desperately wanted to hear.

“Can i please have it baby? Wanna make you feel good. Let me eat you out and take care of you please.”

He hated the way your eyes lit up when he spoke the words a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lips leaning down you placed a slow, teasing kiss to the man’s lips.

“Such a good boy for me.” You whispered against his lips before pulling away, moving back to where he’d previously had you spread out.

Spreading your legs wide you beckoned him with the curl of your finger, watching as he looked at you and your pussy like a hunter watching their prey.

“Fuck” he groaned at the sight of you your cunt dripping in desperation, waiting for him.

He positioned himself between your thighs, your stomach fluttering at his hungry gaze as he kissed the insides of your thighs, facial hair tickling the sensitive skin.

You tried to brace yourself, you really did but nothing could have prepared you for the way Arber moved. He was quick, diving in like a starved man mouth hot, wet, intense.

“Fuck” You moan back arching off the couch from the pleasure.

Arbers not wasting anymore time he’s only worried about one thing and one thing only, tongue moving desperately drinking in you and your addicting taste.

Your hands are tangled in his thick hair nails digging at his scalp as you hold on for dear life, he groans against you from the slight pain when you tug on the roots.

The vibrations sending shockwaves through your body, you’re not sure how much longer you’ll last. Not with the way he’s lapping up your juices, his nose nudging your clit when he pushes his face just a slight bit closer.

You’re a complete mess above him, each flick of his tongue, each suck on your clit pushing you closer and closer to the edge. The heat in your lower stomach is building, a tight coil of pleasure in your core.

Arber knows your getting close, he can feel the way your thighs are starting to shake and locking around his head, burrying him even further into your cunt unconsciously.

But even as your cries get louder, more desperate, he’s not stopping-nowhere even close. His mouth works in overtime picking up its pace, the intensity has you trembling as your high edges closer and closer.

“Arber! Shit, I-I’m close.” You pant, voice shaky as you call out to him.

“Go ahead baby, do it. Come all over my face.” He moans.

There’s desire and desperation deep in his tone, showing you just how down bad he is for you, that even if it goes against his natural dominance he’ll do it for you, do it to make you happy and give you what you deserve.

And just when you think you might be able to hold out a bit longer, just enough to not seem so desperate and pathetic his teeth nip at your clit. Not enough to hurt but just enough to send a shock through your body that has you falling over the edge.

You cry out loudly, eyes snapping shut, your fingers pull hard at his raven hair as your orgasm crashes over you, waves and waves of pleasure washing through your shaking body.

But Arber doesn’t stop, his mouth is working you through your climax, the sound of him slurping your juices Is so dirty but you only find yourself feeling hot at the sound of it.

He keeps going until you physically can’t take it anymore, until your whole body is shaking, hands pushing his head away from the overstimulation.

And god the sight when he pulls back is one that will live in your brain forever, his chin glistening in your juices, face flushed and cheeks red as his chest is heaving in and out.

You can feel the burn beginning between your thighs from his facial hair and even though you’ll be complaining to him tomorrow and making him apply lotion to your thighs it’s a burn you love.

He smirks at the sight of you, completely flushed and spent, chest moving just as fast as his, sweat lining your hairline.

“I’m never begging again just so you know.” He mumbles as he pulls you in for a kiss.

You moan against his lips his at the taste of you on his lips, it makes you feel good knowing he could give two fucks about kissing you after having his mouth on your other lips.

“We’ll see about that.” You tease when he finally pulls back.

-

[pomegranate-theater]

RUFFLING THE WRONG FEATHERS / Yandere Phainon

Summary: Phainon, tired of your constant rejections, tries to provoke you into being more appreciative of his efforts… if that doesn’t go an unexpected direction.

cw: gender neutral reader, slightly manipulative Phainon but he hates himself for it, codependency, angst/comfort. word count: 1.9k

Phainon was late. Your body was trained to anticipate his return around the usual hour, by spreading your nerves with trepidation, in wait of what farce he’d put you through today.

It’s not that you were missing him or anything… it was the getaway from the regular routine that has worried you, with you having been made to not enjoy surprises from his side — in case he comes up with something you wouldn’t find exactly pleasant.

You walked in circles near the front door, occasionally peeking through the curtain of the window, until the door has finally opened and revealed your ‘lover.’

Your ears were ready to hear the familiar chirp and happiness of the voice’s owner’s return, but instead, you were met with unusual calmness. “I’m back. I hope you didn’t miss me too much,” he announced serenely, taking off his shoes without giving you much of a glance.

The lack of acknowledgement of his late return surprised you; however, the fact he sounded almost impassive was more shocking, Phainon-wise. If he had sounded tired (though even tired Phainon was a nice person), you would not think much of it. If Phainon were to be angry at you… well, he still wouldn’t sound indifferent.

In any case, he was late, wasn’t he? He’s been home usually earlier, and if one day he late, he still had admitted his fault. You couldn’t tell if you perhaps were wrong about how much you knew about him.

“Yeah… I’m glad to see you back,” you muttered like a petulant child, already annoyed at the hug and kiss that was surely coming. And when you were given the affection, something felt off about it. Phainon held you, but he let go absurdly for him quickly. He pecked your lips, but there was no plead to draw it out.

Confusion forced into you twice in a row, you were starting to get worried he was perhaps mad at you. Worry not in a traditional sense that you necessarily cared about his opinion; but worry as in if you’re in trouble. He hasn’t hurt you per se, yet even he had his own limits, right?

“Phainon,” you started, “Are you doing alright?” you mentally cursed yourself for the question coming out too soft, sounding as if you were actually worried. You were right as something yearning entered his eyes for a mere second; yet it was erased by previous expression as quickly.

“Whatever you mean, my love,” he patted your head, the gesture taken condescendingly by you when the dismissive answer hit you… in an unfamiliar to you way, at that, akin to a disappointment. You didn’t nor could you experience emotions like this, as if it’d imply you’re still somehow attached to him. Once you give Phainon an inch, a mile might be stolen; the thief starved of affection — willing, please — from you.

Suddenly, his approval became a new importance for you, motivated to bring back the Phainon-typical state. Unknown was bad. Known was bad too, but with known at least you knew what to expect, sailing through your relationship with him in less stressing waters if its dangers were familiar to you.

“Never mind. I’ve made dinner, so you better eat, as it’s already too cold,” you scolded, anticipating the given chuckle you’d receive any time you were bossy like this. Bossy meant caring, no matter the context to a man desperate.

Phainon further threw you into the deep waters, “Oh, but I’ve already eaten in the city.”

The words punched you in the stomach. It wasn’t the fact he’d wasted your time and effort you’ve spent cooking that provoked the amorphous anxiety. It was the implication of him eating with someone else, as you doubted he’d choose to eat outside alone if he could eat with you at home — domesticated, praising your cooking skills, pleading for another portion.

Your mouth parted, as an unfamiliar, unpleasant sensation gnawed at your chest. Jealousy, anger, hurt — Phainon somehow has managed to affect you this way, contradicting your so far prayers to let another person have him so he lets you go back to your free willed-engined life.

“If you were planning to meet with someone, you should have told me before leaving the house! You have the cheek to make me waste my afternoon cooking for you!” you accused, biting down tears shameful in your experience to have been built up, and you stomped away as if throwing a tantrum — not circumspect in restraining your own emotions that could be used against you anymore. Whether it fit the definition of the tantrum, the mind has formed his confession as a betrayal, heartbreaking one for the most maddening part.

To make all worse, Phainon didn’t stop you. The one you knew would have already apologized, profusely, and tried to console you. Sequence of thoughts rendered itself into bigger, unchewable paranoia — he’s been getting bored of you, having found someone much better, if he meets with them and doesn’t even take your feelings into consideration anymore.

Being freed of the burden of being the object of his affection should have made you feel relieved, blessed to be soon no longer to be stuck with an overprotective and clingy man; only for the juxtaposition of the heartbreak to come into the play. When has the point of you (subconsciously) craving his affection and attention began? You’ve long buried yourself into a yearn for that man, and now as if taken granted of him and what he’s been trying to give. Yes, you’ve been rejecting him for so long, always denying him when he’s trying to be affectionate and take care of you, and now you had to reap what you sow — him getting tired of you, exhausted by your coldness while he’s been feeding you with unconditional love. Your protests were no longer tenable.

When you locked yourself in your room, makeshift in your mind only as there has never been any lock to separate you both from the beginning, you could have only thrown yourself at bed to weep like a child.

Phainon was going to leave you- no, he was going to throw you out, and replace you with someone else to take your spot. You’ve hurt him, before it bit you back.

Wallowing in your own sadness took you a few good hours, each passage of hour amplifying the stress from the possibility. The scenario of him leaving truly terrified you, so you were rapidly finding yourself back on your feet as you exited the room in search of him. You had to fix things, grasp onto the last chance to beg for forgiveness.

You’ve found him in his study, looming over some documents you didn’t bother reading — instead, you grabbed onto him from behind and clung to him for a dear life. His body went rigid, taken aback by your sudden attack, and you spilled pleading into his ears. “Phainon, I’m very sorry, please don’t leave me!” The man’s body tensed up further at your words, before he had to turn around to face the sudden crisis.

He was perhaps startled as strongly as you were, “W-wait, what’s going on, my dear?” he quickly stood up to hold onto your face, looking at the face so distressed you’d soon be hyperventilating.

“I can tell you’re tired of me, tired of me being so ungrateful, I’m sorry I’ve realized it so late!” you exclaimed among your sobs.

His eyes widened impossibly, until the understanding filled them. He has been too careless with the conversation after coming home… which didn’t mean there wasn’t something exhilarating in your fear — his hope wasn’t fueled by sadism, only the desperate need for your reciprocal.

“No, listen,” he said gently, stroking your face. “I’m not leaving you. Why do you think that way?”

“You, you- you were late, and you had a dinner with someone else, and you were so cold with me today! You just shrugged me off, and then left me alone!”

The more complains you spilled, the more he realized how his plan has backfired; somewhat. He was meant to make you a tad bit jealous with his actions done today, so you appreciate him just a little more; and instead, he received an entire scared breakdown from your side — for better or worse. He’s realized the extent of your attachment to him that must have built up, involuntarily to you, to quite a big extent, only today. He’s either been a fool, too self-conscious, or you were that good at hiding your growing attachment.

The guilt was eating him for having put you through such a terrifying ordeal, inspiring a fear of abandonment in you or arising a ridiculous notion he’d ever leave you (an entire Chrysos Heirs’ formation would have to drag him away from you); likewise was it useful for him, if your frighten finally meant less hesitation in making his feelings mutual.

He was scared for you, not willing to end up breaking or hurting you, furthermore ashamed of himself for ever coming up with something so rotten even if the assumed impact was much smaller than actual one; however, once the damage was done, he had to play smart and taste the fruit of his labor — in safe amounts, curating only the morsels of it to give you that gentle shove into his arms. He’d never take such a risky gamble willingly, but now that you have provided him with that…

He could only feel sorry for the hurt he could make up for anyway, next to happy about the new beginning — the latter making him feel like a worst man alive, if he didn’t deem it as somewhat necessary. Phainon was now sure he’d never repeat such childish moves ever again; no matter if there’s some chance of success like this — he’ll take what he’s been given, and put it into motion smartly.

“My deepest apologies. I wasn’t ignoring you on purpose, only… I’ve been stressed out, needing some space. And for the meeting… I was merely accompanying Tribbie,” he said quietly, not derived of guilt especially when giving you a lie about the first matter, and brought you tight-knit against him.

The words worked its wonders as they implemented relief from the given to you scenario; still, you shook in his arms, scared like a small bird. That’s why Phainon gently rocked you in his arms, sitting back in his chair and pulling you onto his lap.

He brought you back to a more composed state with reassurance spilled into your ears, and comforting rubs on your back.

“So you’re not leaving me?” you had to ask once more, to close this scary chapter.

“Of course. I could never bring myself to leave a precious soulmate of mine. Hear that? A soulmate, not something to be swayed and taken away by the winds,” he spoke, a tone slightly shy in case you find the words too cliche or perhaps desperate.

To his delight, you became flustered yourself, and buried your face in his chest.

“Did I make you feel that joyful, huh?” he teased and kissed the top of your head, now swarms of conflicting feelings — wanting to be away from him, but much more scared about it and being stripped of his love.

That’s why Phainon was here to chase away any hesitation until it’s just the two of you.

[otsalezu]

Um. I may have.

Emma May was, to put it lightly, in need of a drink. It had been a long year, and especially a long few weeks. Stanley’s escape had really just been the straw to break the camel’s back, pushing her to finally take the holiday she’d promised her husband. Maybe the fresh air of Oregon would be a nice break from the city. After all, he and his research partner were practically in the middle of the woods. It excited her, as biology had been her minor. The field always interested her, and she was excited to see some of the anomalies Fiddleford had claimed to be studying.

However, the drive was long and only gave her more time to mull over the situation. She had no idea how Stanley had done it this time, how he’d even organized a getaway car. The only thing clear about the situation is that he likely wouldn’t be getting back. Emma May couldn’t exactly blame him. Though she tried to make life at the institution as pleasant as possible, not all of her coworkers had the same idea. At least she could go home on bad days. Stanley was…stuck there. And that was just one of the many problems he’d had. Everything about the man concerned her, even the lighthearted jokes he’d always made. She shook her head. No, no more thinking about work! This was her vacation, her escape. And besides, she needed to focus on making a good impression on Fiddleford’s lab partner. The man always sounded so prim and proper over the phone.

Rolling down the window, she sighed happily. The air was lighter here, smelling of pine trees and rain. Emma May had never been to the west coast before, staying behind in the midwest when her husband had been called over. Even before that, the extent of her holidays had always been towns a few hours over. The environment around her was totally foreign, but she liked it. The towering trees, the reddish soil, the strangely loose fashion of the few hitchhikers she saw. It was…a breath of fresh air.

She’d briefed the two men on the situation over the phone, both sounding equally horrified and concerned for the man. Of course, she hadn’t told them his name at the time. A habit, she supposed, from when he had been her patient. It felt wrong to tell all Stanley’s information to two strangers, so she supposed the most she could do was protect his privacy. That seemed to be something he valued, if the several fake ID’s he’d tried to use at first were anything to go by. As she pulled into the driveway, the troubled feeling in her chest didn’t leave. She hoped that Fiddleford still had that good whiskey she’d given him when he’d left.

The door swung open before she even got to knock, her husband grabbing her into a bear hug.

“Emma May! Didja get here alright?”

He held her out at arms length, looking her over.

“Yeah, none a’ those gnomes or whatever gave me any trouble. So where’s your research partner?”

There was a clambering down the stairs, and a few stiff “sorry”s wrang out. Finally, another man ran into the door, offering his hand. Emma May stepped back, eyes wide.

“STANLEY?!”

I kind of want to continue this, if anyone’s interested in this becoming an actual fic lmk lol

Thinking about Fidds wife being a psychologist and she talks to him about how sad she is that one of her patients, that needed quite a lot of help and others kept mistreating him at the facility, ran away.

Fidds and her go visit Ford and she freaks because he looks exactly like her patient??? But like??? Put togetherish??

If you want Stan to already be there and it's not a search for stan thing: Stan pops out, sees her and now they're both freaking out. He immediately runs away because that's a mind doctor which is bad.

[rosy-hollow]

｡ﾟ•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ꒰ა ʚɞ ໒꒱ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈• ｡ﾟ╰┈➤ @lillycore ⦂ OH OH, since you’re requests are open, can I request high school au with sukuna (established relationship) where he asks reader out to prom and what they’d do there? 》 ✐ᝰ UHM YES?? I LOVE YOU THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE HEHEH

｡ﾟ•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ꒰ა ʚɞ ໒꒱ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈• ｡ﾟ

If you ranked Sukuna Ryomen on a list of the classiest men alive, he’d be dead last.

You knew that when you started dating him. Hell, you’d been together for two years now, so if his lack of finesse bothered you, you wouldn’t have stuck around this long.

Which is why you weren’t even surprised when, in the middle of some random conversation, he just told you that you’d be going to senior prom together—like it was already a given. No asking, no buildup, just a casual declaration.

Because in his mind?

It was a given.

It was just a stupid dance, anyway. No need to make a big deal out of it.

Right?

God, he was so wrong.

Now, standing outside your door, waiting to pick you up, Sukuna feels something entirely foreign settle in his chest.

Nerves.

It’s almost pathetic, how anxious he is. Not even during high-pressure games does his heart race like this. At least then, he’s in his element.

This? This is uncharted territory.

Loving someone—hell, even dating someone—always seemed like something that happened in theory. Something that happened to other people.

But he didn’t just love someone.

He was in love with you.

So utterly and completely in love that the very idea of being without you makes him feel like a dead man walking.

You, with your pretty face and knowing smiles. The way your laugh makes his heart do annoying things. Your witty comebacks, your sharp tongue.

You make him feel alive.

And ironically, the second the door swings open—his heart stops.

You are breathtaking.

To be fair, you always are, but—god.

"Holy shit."

He doesn’t even realize he’s said it aloud until you giggle, stepping forward and shutting the door behind you.

Sukuna suddenly feels very grateful you insisted on matching outfits, because with the way you look right now—he’d be damned if you looked like anything but his.

Just the thought makes his feel strange - a good strange - inside.

You’re his.

And he’s yours.

“I… wow,” he mutters gruffly.

You hum, stepping closer, tilting your head in amusement. Teasing him.

“Is that a good ‘wow’ or a bad ‘wow,’ ‘Kuna?”

A large, warm palm finds the small of your back, pulling you in, his lips brushing over yours.

“Definitely good,” he murmurs, before pressing his lips against yours—the first of many tonight.

Some might call you a miracle worker for convincing Sukuna to actually drive to the venue. Because if he had it his way? You’d be heading straight back to his place, where he could have you all to himself.

It’s cute, honestly. The way he grips the steering wheel like it’s the only thing stopping him from devouring you whole. Like if he so much as looks at you for too long, he’ll lose whatever shred of self-control he has left.

You, on the other hand, have no such limitations, happily being the passenger royalty you are.

So you drink him in—the way the streetlights cast shadows across his sharp features, how insanely handsome he looks in his suit.

You were just as whipped as he was.

Just... better at hiding it.

When you arrive, the entrance is already packed with familiar faces, student IDs in hand, waiting to be let in.

Sukuna steps out first, then, to your delight, makes his way around the car to open your door for you.

You giggle at his rare act of chivalry, taking his outstretched hand.

Inside, the venue is stunning—twinkling lights, lavish décor. You definitely have to congratulate your friend on the prom committee for a job well done.

Sukuna, however, could not give less of a shit.

Because while you’re admiring the decorations, he’s admiring you.

The soft, awed expression on your face is worth more than any stupid floral arrangement.

When you glance back at him, his eyes are warm—softer than they ever are in public.

You smile, leaning in to kiss him again, and he happily obliges, though it takes everything in him not to pull you flush against him and forget the whole damn dance.

When you pull away though, there’s a mischievous glint in your eye.

Oh no.

“‘Kuna~?” you draw out, sing-song.

He groans. He’s screwed.

“Will you dance with me?”

Sukuna just stares at you blankly.

“Fuck no.”

“Pleeeeease?”

Oh, fuck you and your stupid puppy eyes and your perfect face and your perfect everything—he can’t say no to you.

And that’s how he finds himself standing in the middle of the dance floor, awkwardly shuffling while you happily bop along to the music, grinning like this is the best night of your life.

It goes on like this for a while—your poor, hulking boyfriend completely out of his element, staying only because he loves you.

Then—suddenly—the music shifts.

The bass-heavy beats fade, replaced with something slower, softer.

Sukuna’s eyes widen slightly as yours light up.

You step toward him, all soft smiles and adoration.

You bow teasingly. “May I have this dance?”

Sukuna clicks his tongue, rolling his eyes. But there’s no real bite. “Ain’t I the one who’s supposed'ta ask ya that?”

You hum as he tugs you closer, his arms encircling your waist, your own draping around his neck. “Maybe… but I like to keep you on your toes.”

He lets out a rare, genuine laugh before kissing you again—deep, slow, tender.

He rests his forehead against yours, voice lower now, softer.

“That you do.”

Your eyes shine, drinking in the way he looks at you.

“And unfortunately for you,” you tease gently, “I always will.”

Sukuna snorts.

“You’re a little shit.”

But you both know he doesn’t mean it.

A/N: AHHHHHHHHHH (that's it, that's all I have to say)

[clitorphosis]

(NANO)NITWIT

Damnation Leon S. Kennedy x reader | 18+ MDNI. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, NON CONSENSUAL SEX, SMUT, female reader, suicidal thoughts, reader feels like shit and in general not well, hurt no comfort i think, age gap, loss of virginity, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, dacryphilia, light degradation, no orgasm for reader.

Summary: You don’t know what you missed in your forming years, maybe there was a book of written rules everyone has learned by heart and you missed that opportunity. Unlucky. Even worse when the person in front of you looks like he is supposed to be a porn star, while you were born under the unlucky star.

notes: this may be a little bit personal and all so yea..also thank you to Grey and Mads that they tolerated my tweaking over some parts…and two for a pic :3.I don’t condone anything here in real life. :3 uhm, reblogs, asks or comments and any kind of feedback are really appreciated!

tags: @melanchol1cs @writingwisterias @swordtosleeve

You are fucked.

So fucked in an irreparable way.

You wish a gun would be an option. It should be so easy, so simple - boom! And you’d be outta here. No one would care, even if you become a bug one day - no one would have noticed anyway, and there would be no thought to check your room. Samsa had it easier, even briefly, no one would spend their time to get rid of you. At the same time, you can’t bring yourself to end this all, the most ethical way is to live and wait for something. People die, you will too. Cowardly hiding yourself, afraid to appear in front of others like they will notice your cowardice, lack of capacity to do the favor. There is a certainty that life would end by being alone and miserable.

The sentiment isn’t just something that appeared in your head out of nowhere, you wished it was like that cause the glimpse of disappointment in your mother’s eyes isn’t the glow you have ever wanted to see. Silently calling you a piece of trash, maybe she is more straightforward with her friends - after all, you don’t interact much anymore. Never have you expected to be able to read someone’s thoughts from the face alone. So to stay away, locked from her sight is the right choice. There are no mirrors to face the mess you are.

And you are only in your 20s, they shouldn’t suck like that.

Your mom was right, actually. You won’t admit that because she believes moms are always right. After a certain point, aging is a burden on the shoulders. There is an invisible hand, not of the market, but of the big-big responsibility that comes with the age, it pushes you down like you are a dumb dog and you can’t hide from the shame. Feels odd, wrong, those animals are much smarter than you. And loved.

And partially, you are unlucky, at least you consider yourself one - while failing at every aspect of your life, this feeling got even deeper into your skin when your mom started bringing in her boyfriend. Attractive. Charismatic. Sexy. And god, you probably drilled holes into him.

Even worse, seeing her so happy and having something you can’t make your body fill with dread - this should be you.

You don’t like him.

Because he should be yours. In another life maybe, when being active and talking to someone isn’t an impossible task. Even though, this man is so insufferable to be around, at least you didn’t expect him to be one. Corny, dumb jokes. So unfunny, they want you to kill yourself whenever you catch the corners of your lips tug up. And he is really handsy, but the worst of them all - he doesn’t always ignore your existence too.

Leon. That was his name, he seemed a proper man, too normal, trying to be fun and charismatic - to get into your mom’s pants. Not yours. If someone asked your opinion, his jokes were lame as much as he is, but his handsome and hot face was compensating for his… whatever he is. And money. Rolex doesn’t grow on the trees, Ducati neither. You wouldn’t have minded his existence if he didn’t try to introduce himself in your life, feels like he is pitying you. You can see it in his blue eyes, that glimpse of pity every time he catches you out of your room (late at night). Too late in your life, too late that there is no place for him.

In all honesty. You don’t like him, but god, fuck, you like him too much for your own good.

He is too simple for his own sake. His smell doesn’t invade every corner of the apartment and he isn’t yours. Leon is the type of a man you’d find in most watched porn, highlight videos on the main page with cute, dumb, young girls clinging to his side, calling him daddy and worshiping his cock to the point someone may copy and paste these girls. Cliche, sexy cliche. There is a certain alluring trait in that, for you he is something unobtainable. Would he look at you disgustingly if you tried to touch him? If you tell him how your fingers find their way to your pussy every time? Inwardly you thanked god on your knees for people not being able to read your mind.

Also, it weirdly itches your brain. Like a bug bite to scratch.

And your mom isn’t the best woman out here, pissy over little things, always at the brink of bursting out, cause she knows better. Even better than a government agent. Something is not right and everyone on the street will be hearing that. Leon is not the type to involve himself deeply in arguments, his job fucks his brains enough, so it is natural to learn to ignore shit thrown at him. Like second nature and he can let off steam in other ways anyway.

Leon is in your room, you thought he left the house and was on one of the many business trips. To be honest, a man can’t have so many of them, probably cheating with a much more pleasant woman than your mom. Not with you. At the same time, a relief and not.

“Eh…?” You didn’t catch his words. Your gaze darted around his face, but never lingering on one spot - avoiding his blue eyes. Blue eyes are scary, intimidating - they drill into everyone’s souls and look lifeless.

But he is so pretty.

Focus. Why is he in your room?

Per se it is hard to speak with someone else, you don’t know what you missed in your forming years, maybe there was a book of written rules everyone has learned by heart and you missed that opportunity. Unlucky. Even worse when the person in front of you looks like he is supposed to be a porn star. A man with a big chest and these features are enough to make your knees weak. He has those shoulders you have only seen on Instagram models. Or in porn. Always legs placed on them.

“A gift” he repeats, pointing with his head to the little bag he put on your bed. Slowly stepping closer and sitting down. The bed dips slightly, making your body tense. “I brought you a gift.”

A gift. Did he buy it? If you were a dog, your ears would be perked up and your tail swishing in excitement, but maybe, unfortunately for you, there is no need for them - your expression shows whatever is on your mind. You didn’t notice how his eyes were still drilling into your frame, like a heavy weight on your shoulders. He expects something.

Your fingers reach for the bag or try to cause the attempt to be cut by the slap on your hand.

“Atta”Leon clears his throat, the low sound pulls you out of focus on the bag and the images of a possible gift. Fuck, he is still here. “What you should say?” He presses, his own voice is low, with a lilt of irritation slipping through - sounds rich and hot, like a good whiskey would taste.

Right, being thankful, AND respectful - whatever your mom has taught you. Even though you suck at talking it feels like even such a simple task is awkward and would be a pitiful attempt to appear normal.

“… Thank you” Not daring to look into his face. Hard. Your words come out of your mouth quietly, feel foreign too. Speaking always feels alien.

He cradles your face, not having another way but to meet his eyes. So close and filling your senses to the point you just freeze. There is a clear smell of alcohol, maybe whiskey. His fingers are rough contrasting with the subtle tenderness of his grip. The bed cracks a little bit louder this time and you realize he is looming over you. And you tense, instinctively your hands come up to try to push him away.

“Shhh, shhh, I’ve got you, sweetheart” his thumb strokes softly your cheek, keeping you aware of how close he is. Too close, you can count every curve of his lashes, a scar on his cheek. His lips. They look kissable, a little bit dry today. Your mom said men shouldn’t use lip balm, it makes them gay. You don’t think that’s the case.

Your breathing hitches deep in your lungs, it feels like he is going to kiss you. Or not? You can’t bring yourself to move away when his hand firmly touches your waist, gripping it so securely before moving lower, to rest on your thigh - he explores your body like a map. Is that a dream? What should you do? Everything feels like it doesn’t happen to you, like a bad movie and you are just the watcher. Embarrassingly, your clit throbs with the need to be touched.

“Will you help me, mm?” Leon asks quietly and you exhale. Without too many thoughts, you nod. Finally, fewer thoughts - less mangy sensations. “A favor for a favor.”

You are unsure. You are never sure actually. 20s and a virgin, hopeless one. Since forever your mind stopped creating unrealistic expectations of the possible scenario of losing your virginity, still… you imagined this differently.

“Sure everyone who has touched you doesn’t know shit” Leon speaks in a honey-like voice buttering you to give in. His hand squeezes your thigh, leaving a big void in your brain.

Not like you are going to deny him cause words don’t come out, they never do, your mouth is so useless cause all it can do is just show a meek half-smile and not protest. Leon seems to catch on that quickly. In chaste kisses his lips are hot and he presses them against your cheeks just to slowly lower to the angle of your jaw. But there is nothing behind that, no affection or love you’ve seen in movies or read in books. He kisses your skin disinterested, in a lazy way to feign a desire to please you. Like he needs you, maybe deep down that’s true, cause it’d be so much easier to catch a girl for a night in the bar. Or to pay for sex.

Leon doesn’t care, that’s too many thoughts to focus on, too many worries. The only thing he is after is his pleasure, whatever you get off of isn’t something he considered. Your skin is soft underneath his lips, that’s inviting. Its softness is exciting, he wants to touch you even more and squeeze you like a plush toy. Still, avoiding your lips like the plague you stay unmoved, letting him spread your legs apart while keeping a firm grip on your chin - so your gaze wouldn’t get away, he needs you to face him for now.

His blue eyes wander around your face briefly, searching for something - maybe consent, or similar to that. But all he can see is an insecure mess, trying to hide how much his attention is fluttering, while your pupils are wide - he can see his reflection there too. And this burns even more the irrevocable desire in his body, hardening painfully his cock in the jeans. The fly isn’t even zipped, still, it doesn’t remove uncomfortable straining. So pent up. He needs to let steam off, he needs to fuck someone who isn’t going to do the same with his brains after that.

To remove your shorts is easy, underwear too, his gaze abandons your face to focus on important matters - your pussy, to let off this frustration, to fuck finally. You are so easy, he can move you around or touch you without any squeak from you, feeding on his own selfish desires and delusions.

Something is not right. It is disappointing. Almost hurting his ego, men are fragile creatures after all. You are not wet, well, you are, but not wet enough to be considered ready for his cock. This isn’t a big deal, a spit of saliva and quick thrust is enough. Still, a girl like you should be grateful for even quick kisses and a touch from him. And you seem to be grateful, he can see this from your eyes and tensed expression - still not enough. The right girl would kiss the floor he walked, worship him, and treat him well. You are a little bit confused, but nothing a quick sex can fix, right?

He pins you against the mattress. In no time adjust your legs, pulling them to your chest. His hand pushes your head to the side to not see your face, not like it would be on his sight anyway, he is focused on other things - not on you, nor your pleasure. Your legs twitched as soon as he spat down on your pussy, the weird feeling of his saliva clinging to your lips - the difference between temperatures, how it is colder than your skin. Easy and free, it would be useless to waste lube and any time on you. His free hand grips your hip tightly, angling it to finally plunge his cock into your hole.

It is a quick thrust, no adjustment, no slow buildup - nothing. Not giving enough time to realize the contact of his tip with your hole - his cock fills you up intoxicatingly, to the point your head becomes dizzy, and your body tenses around him, clenching tightly in a vice-like grip.

“That’s a good girl, good puppy” He breathes out, giving a sharp thrust to see your face twists. Filling you to the hilt, the tip of his cock kisses your uterus and every possible trashing or worm out of this will lead only to his pleasure - a light shift of his hips and his cock grinds against your cervix. Your legs twitch, almost arching from the weirdest sensations - squirming pleasure mixed with pain, if someone asked you to describe it’d be similar to a billion butterflies fluttering in your womb as your body becomes not yours, too weak for sweet right buttons to press. Too bad you don’t miss his own expressions: how his eyes roll, enjoying how good your pussy spasms around him. Like it was made for him. For his cock.

He stretches your walls quickly, in a way you bite your lip so hard - the taste of iron mixes with the suffocating sensation, confusing you and almost worsening your panic, thinking it may be just a nosebleed. Or you are bleeding, it feels like you are being torn apart and you can not move. Your hole clenches tightly, searching for a little time to adjust, slow pull out of his cock and you can feel every one of his veins dragging against your walls. The little resistance would worsen this, you aren’t sure you should fight, but something tells you - you deserve this.

Tears well up easily in your eyes, not even noticing the sudden wetness on your cheeks, too focused on his dick inside you.

He drags it out slowly now until only the tip remains inside you - still uncomfortably stretching. There is something twisted in the way it pleases him to see how your hole tries to adjust around him. How it clings to every unevenness of his dick, your pussy twitches and pulses at every little touch, how it leaves wet trails and… blood?

“Ohh. Your first or not used to real man, huh?”He sighs with wider eyes, there is no surprise, just amusement. Looking down at his cock, the light traces of blood on his skin. You are a virgin, or he just tore you cause you were unprepared. Not like he cared, not his mess to clean. “Too bad I am not stopping”

Not really expecting an answer from you, but not to hear your squeaks or sobs anymore, his hand creeps to rest on your mouth. He shoves his cock back and the pain returns. Not as overwhelming as it was before, still in a weird way. You liked the thought of being degraded, to be slapped, and treated the same as those girls in porn. It scratches the feeling of unworthiness so well. So right too, like your spot is to be mistreated without any other options. But now, you don’t know how to even deal with this, it is hard to even try to make it feel good - you don’t have any idea how.

Leon fucks you as he wants, deep and selfishly, not giving too much time to breathe in. This is first, this is different, this is everything you didn’t expect it to be. And he wouldn’t let you have any other way anyway - but hey, it makes him feel good, no? The thought appears like a light bulb, pulsing in your head just to slightly ease your worries. Again, using dumb, stupid, and useless you, your body, makes him feel good.

You make him feel good.

“Yea, that’s a good fucking face, babe” Leon grunts again, addicting desire creeps up in his chest as you weakly sob into his hand. Tears are sexy, no matter the reason behind them - too rough? Women like rough anyway. Too good? Of course, he knows his ways with women. Bad? You don’t know shit, an invalid opinion.

“Pretty when you cry, keep that face on” he is so close now to you, leaning over and his fingers dip into your cheeks to force your gaze to meet his. To see better your ruined and tearful face. His warm tongue presses against your cheek and any trails of your rolling tears disappear under his mouth - his cock pulses inside you at the taste of your tears. A grain of saltiness. And nothing. This is sexy, this is addicting and he is the reason for these pretty wet eyes.

You twitch with a loud gasp, muffled under his hand. He is so close, that is impossible to ignore how rough and messy his thrusts become. Deeply burying himself into your pussy, and your body isn’t yours anymore. The way it clenches around him, enticing a groan over you, like an addict getting that sweet shot of heroin. His cock twitches, you can feel it even better now, like your bodies become one at this point. You aren’t sure if there isn’t a thin layer of tissue, but it wouldn’t be surprising to get a visible outline of his cock.

You try to reach for your clit, to be selfish for once to end up useless again. Leon doesn’t care, as his weight presses on your body to hit the deeper angle, and your attempt is thrown out of the window. This is a fuzzy feeling, humiliating in its nature, as the sudden action electrifies your body with pleasure and guilt. Pleasure cause his dick hits soo well your spongy spot, he fits sooo well in your pussy, knowing every right spot to hit to twist your expression and guilty cause you shouldn’t feel pleasure. Overwhelming, too much happens - you can’t even focus on yourself for once. He is licking away your tears. Leon is so sweet, affectionate and caring, oh my god! - one of a billion thoughts flooded in your brain, just to be hit out of your head after a rough thrust. Leon is so sweet and so thoughtful. He likes you, right?

Keeping the pace steady as the only sound fills your room is the skin-slapping one, every time his hips connect with yours - his balls slap your ass. And you arch into him, involuntarily trying to grasp a little bit of pleasure from this situation - the little friction between your clit and his happy trail every time his hips slam, even briefly sending a jolt through your body.

“Fuck… take it” Leon groans, breathing out heavily and letting it brush against your skin. He is overwhelmingly everywhere: inside your pussy, hitting your womb with every deep thrust, his weight presses on you while your eye contact with him remains forced, drilling holes in your face now. “your dumb wet face… keep it, gonna cum”

Not like you can keep your tears in, they keep coming, persisting your pathetic image in his eyes. You are so messy for him, with wet trails of his saliva mixed with your tears and with a clear intent to let him take whatever he wants from you. The sight tightens his balls as orgasm approaches like a quick tidal wave, his cock buries deep inside with the last slam. It twitches inside you, keeping you full, not only with his dick, but now his warm cum fills your pussy almost to the brim, his mind is blank - focused on how his cock pumped rope after rope inside you. First penetration, first creampie, he is first everything.

Leon slowly pulls out of you, a loud squelching sound accompanied by a weak whimper from you - there is a silence between you both, only heavy breathing. Light cracks as the surface of the bed becomes even - Leon isn’t next to you anymore, and neither he is going to let you get your high. Too much work. Less likely it is even possible, it felt foreign, like a knife in the old wound, rummaging in it only to leave a black scar to bleed.

His hand ruffles your hair as a last act of whatever happened, maybe it is affection or maybe he feels guilty to intrude your little world with his selfish desire. You wish it is both, to believe that someone wanted you finally even just to let off the steam, just to use you. Action so sweet and unexpected, it pulls you back, more aware of chills seeping into your bones as the remains heat of his body withdrew from you, like a wave washing off the footsteps on the sand - it may be a false memory, a dream of something that didn’t happened.

And just to leave you alone, all lonely to clean the mess he caused. Not like you are going to complain; there is no energy or right to do that. You cried it out, even anything similar to tears can’t get out anymore.

Your eyes hurt from it, and tears eat every moist spot leaving them dry. So strange, how can tears dry so easily in your eyes? Feels like sand was thrown in your face. Your trembling hands try to open the bag, it should be something nice - not every day you get a gift. A dreadful and sinking feeling fills your stomach at the sight of it being empty. The inside is empty. There is nothing. No gift.

And you feel empty too, maybe emptier than the giftless bag without him here.

[starkerscoop]

I just put out a SoulMate au Prompt!

On your birthday, as soon as you hit a certain age, you get to see a glimpse of your soulmate and possible clue as to who they are. And it repeats every year on ur birthday.

Maybe for the first several years Tony never saw anyone. So maybe his soulmate wasn't 18 yet. But then 5 years turn into 10, 15, 20 ( how many u wanna age him up to) so he thinks he doesn't have one.

Tony is getting ready with his friends and tailor, and he goes to check himself out, and he doesn't see himself. He sees Peter.

Now could know him already or not. Peter could be Spiderman or not!

I think it would be a fun idea!

- WinterSpiderPurrs

I know it's been almost two full years but here it is! Thank you for the prompt :)

also on ao3

Tony sighed, running his hands over the burgundy suit he was trying on. It didn’t sit right on him—too stiff, too impersonal—but he could imagine someone else wearing it. Someone standing beside him, fingers laced with his, accompanying him to his birthday party.

Someone he still didn’t have a face for.

Every year, his birthday arrived with the same disappointment. No vision. No glimpse. No confirmation that there was someone out there meant for him. At first, he had told himself his soulmate just wasn’t old enough yet. But as five years turned into ten, then fifteen, then twenty, the hope had faded.

Now, he wasn’t sure he had a soulmate at all.

Loud laughter from the waiting area pulled him from his thoughts. Tony’s shoulders slumped. He didn’t want Rhodey or Happy catching on to the turmoil written all over his face. Forcing himself to turn away from the noise, he faced the full-length mirror instead.

The suit looked just as wrong as it felt.

With a huff, Tony started to turn away, only for a flicker of movement in the glass to freeze him in place.

His breath caught.

His reflection was gone.

Instead, staring back at him was someone else.

Unruly curls, wild and windswept. Pale wrists wrapped in what looked like homemade gadgets, their design so unfamiliar that even Tony’s mind struggled to piece them together.

He leaned in, heart hammering, trying to get a better look—

And just like that, the image vanished.

The mirror once again reflected nothing but his own dissatisfied expression and the burgundy suit he suddenly wanted to set on fire.

Tony blinked.

Once. Twice.

“Holy shit,” he breathed.

He had a soulmate.

For the first time in years, something warm and unfamiliar bloomed in his chest, pushing aside the loneliness he’d grown used to carrying.

He didn’t say anything to Rhodey or Happy, who were still waiting for him to pick a suit. This was his, and his alone, to process.

But suddenly, picking out a suit felt meaningless. What did it matter? There was someone out there for him. Destined for him.

And Tony was going to find them.

Tearing off the suit, he pulled his own clothes back on, leaving the discarded fabric crumpled on the floor. He didn’t bother fixing it before striding out to his friends.

“I’m calling off the party,” he announced, cutting off their conversation.

Rhodey blinked. “All the guests have RSVP’d.”

Happy frowned. “And you love parties. Especially your own.”

Tony shrugged, impatience flickering in his eyes. “I’m a reformed man. I’ll take you two to dinner instead.”

Dinner would take less time. He had more important things to do now.

Rhodey and Happy exchanged a weird look, but Rhodey just sighed. “Whatever you want, Tones. It’s your day.”

Tony threw an arm around each of them, steering them toward the exit. They were halfway down the street when the first scream rang out.

They stopped cold.

Panic rippled through the air, the distant sound of chaos surging closer.

Tony’s hand hovered over his watch, instincts taking over.

Something was happening.

And for the first time, his gut told him it might be more important than any fight he’d been in before.

Across the street, a crowd scattered in all directions, their screams echoing off the towering buildings. Something—or someone—had sent them into a panic. Rhodey and Happy instinctively flanked Tony, scanning for the threat.

A car alarm blared as a sedan was flung sideways, skidding across the pavement before slamming into a fire hydrant. A geyser of water erupted, drenching the road. Through the chaos, Tony caught sight of the culprit—a metallic-armed thug in a makeshift exo-suit, stomping forward with all the grace of a wrecking ball.

“Great,” Tony muttered. “Guess it’s work mode now.”

Before he could activate his nanotech, a blur of red and blue shot down from above.

Spider-Man.

Tony barely had time to register the hero’s arrival before the kid launched himself straight at the armored thug, webbing his wrist and yanking hard. The thug snarled, trying to shake him off, but Spider-Man was already flipping over his head, landing a precise kick to the back of his skull.

Rhodey let out a low whistle. “Gotta hand it to the kid. He knows how to make an entrance.”

Tony grunted, eyes narrowing. He’d seen Spidey in action plenty of times before, but something about this moment held him captive. The way the kid moved—fluid, confident, impossibly fast—it felt... familiar.

Then he saw them.

The wrist-mounted devices.

Tony’s stomach dropped.

No way. It couldn’t be.

His mind reeled back to the vision in the mirror—pale wrists, odd gadgets strapped to them. They were different from his own tech, but unmistakably homemade. He had brushed it off at the time, too consumed by the shock of finally seeing his soulmate at all. But now, standing in the middle of a crumbling city street, watching Spider-Man weave between blows, it hit him like a freight train.

His soulmate might be standing right in front of him.

He had no proof, no way to know for sure. But the possibility lodged itself in his chest, refusing to be ignored.

“Tony,” Rhodey barked, snapping him out of it.

The thug had finally shaken off Spider-Man and was now barreling toward them, arms raised.

Tony’s hesitation shattered. Whatever this was, whoever his soulmate turned out to be, he’d deal with that later. Right now, he had a fight to finish.

He pressed his watch. The suit deployed around him in an instant.

“Let’s dance,” he muttered, launching into the fray.

The thug roared, slamming his exo-enhanced fists into the pavement, sending a shockwave rippling through the street. Cars bounced, windows shattered, and the force sent bystanders scrambling for cover.

Tony barely had time to react before Spider-Man shot out a web, yanking him backward just as a streetlight came crashing down where he had stood.

“Seriously, dude? Watch your step!” Spidey quipped, twisting midair before planting both feet against the thug’s chest. The force of the impact sent the villain stumbling, but he dug his mechanical fingers into the asphalt, stopping his fall with brute strength.

“Appreciate the assist, Webs,” Tony called, sending a repulsor blast at the thug’s exposed side. The villain barely flinched.

“Yeah, no problem!” Spider-Man shot a line of webbing to the thug’s wrist, yanking hard to throw him off balance. “But maybe next time, let’s not fight guys built like refrigerators?”

The thug growled and swung wildly. Spidey ducked, flipping over the attack, but the villain anticipated it this time. With terrifying speed, he reached up and caught Spider-Man mid-air, gripping him by the torso with a crushing force.

Spider-Man yelped.

Tony’s heart clenched.

“Gotcha now, bug,” the thug sneered, squeezing tighter. Spider-Man struggled, arms pinned to his sides, legs kicking.

Tony didn’t hesitate—he fired up his thrusters and shot forward.

But before he could reach them, the villain’s other hand gripped the edge of Spider-Man’s mask. In one brutal motion, he ripped it clean off.

The world seemed to slow as Tony took in the face now exposed to the open air.

Brown eyes wide with alarm. A mess of curls he instantly recognized.

Tony’s breath caught.

It was him. The same face he had seen in the mirror. His soulmate.

Something in Tony shifted, like a key turning in a lock he hadn’t known was there. A fierce protectiveness surged through him, drowning out everything else.

His soulmate was in danger.

And Tony Stark did not let the people he loved get hurt.

Before the thug could tighten his grip, Tony fired a concentrated repulsor blast straight at his wrist. The exo-enhanced metal cracked under the impact, sending a jolt through the villain’s arm. His grip faltered just enough.

The kid took advantage.

Despite the pain, he jerked his legs up, planting both feet against the thug’s chest and pushing off with every ounce of strength he had. The force ripped him free from the villain’s grasp, sending him tumbling through the air.

Tony was there in a second.

He caught the kid before he could hit the ground, arms wrapping securely around him as they hovered above the street. The kid gasped, chest rising and falling rapidly, dazed from the lack of oxygen.

Tony tightened his hold.

“Gotcha, kid.”

The boy blinked up at him, eyes wide and unfocused. Tony could see the moment the realization hit—his face flushed slightly, but he didn’t say anything.

Tony didn’t either. His mind was racing too fast.

This was his soulmate. But he had no idea who he was.

And that was something he was going to change.

[unp0pularl0nerkid]

The Flowers Died On Monday

Short one shot off of the following prompt: the flowers died on monday.

I didnt know everything about you. In fact, the mystery was what drew me in. What made me want more. You were a rich adopted kid, who stayed to himself, showed up with bruises and cuts and wore clothes similar to street kids. You were educated .. yet just like me. I didnt go to school. In fact, when we met, you watched me pickpocket someone. I was hungry. I needed the money. I needed to survive. Gotham isn’t the city where you ask nicely and gain a roof over your head. You gave me a tip. “Try a distraction, next time. Twinkle Toes.” He chuckled. “Twinkle Toes?” I growled. “Because you’re not soft on your feet” he laughed. Who do you think you are? Making Jokes about me when you don’t even know my life. I tried to fight you, you let my punch connect. You weren’t phased and you sure as hell wasn’t angry. You…understood. You stopped by the grocery store, bought a whole bunch of food and brought it up to “my” apartment. If you could call it that. It was abandoned, don’t know why. Its gotham. It was actually really nice, aside from the broken windows, tattered wallpaper, busted pipes…etc. You didnt judge though. You simple set the food down and watched me eat. You asked me about myself and I told you very little. Orphan, check. Poor, check. Misfortunate, check. Dumb, check. All the usual boxes, checked. Somehow i’d fallen asleep. You had this sense of comfort within you. Like i had no reason to keep my guard up. When I woke up you were gone. But, I’d seen some wood, and other stuff scattered on the floor. I didn’t see you for the whole day, but at 1 am, you’d showed up. You looked slightly bruised and even tired. But you also had some things with you. A blanket, an air mattress, some school books. The little stuff. You used the wood to cover the windows, you’d got some tape and covered the leaks. You blew up the airmatress and made my “bed” and then you gave me a book and told me to read it, throughout the day, so im not bored. I felt like I was a true human being. I told you more about me. How I ran away from everyone because they all mistreated me. They didnt care for me. They hated me and they told me it. You told me about your past. How Bruce had taken you in because he saw some potential. How you think, Bruce would maybe see some potential in me. I shut it down immediately. That’s your thing. You have someone who cares for you and im not about to ruin it. Maybe you sensed that I was about to break? Whatever the case was, you switched the conversation. We kept it smaller, you asked me if I think batman and robin were heroes. I told you that I think they’re doing the right thing in their own way. I told you that it’s admirable to do something, knowing nobody knows your identity. Especially robin, he’s young and he’s brave enough to do all of this. It’s really amazing. You just simply shrugged and told me to go to sleep. That morning you’d came back except you had a man with you. His name was Bruce. Your Bruce. We had a short conversation and he told me to grab my things because im going to come with yall. I told him that I ruin everything I touch and I don’t want to be responsible for breaking up his family. He simply smiled and said that the manor was big enough for everyone. And he was right. It was huge, id never even seen anything like it. He showed me up to my room, which was decorated pretty plainly but it was a room nonetheless. Id taken a warm shower and got cozy in my bed. You’d came in with some flowers and put them on my desk by the window. You said that even though the room is dark, the flowers lighten it up. I laughed and said it was stupid, one thing doesn’t change everything. You said that I was wrong, that one small step is all that’s needed to change everything. Like if you wouldn’t have met me, then none of this would’ve happened. And you were right.

The flowers died on Monday. I’d gotten back from school and they were burnt to a crisp, leaves wilted like they were already preparing for their demise. You said that it’s okay and you’d get me some more later. But I was feeling like those flowers. Id been to school, and I didnt belong. I felt like the biggest outsider and even when I got back to the manor it felt like there was some huge secret I didnt know. But when I told you that, you said it was probably because I needed to get used to it but your eyes said that I was right. That i either didn’t belong or wasn’t apart of whatever secret there was. But never mind, we both went to sleep.

My heart cracked that Tuesday. It was that morning when I asked where you and Bruce were. Alfred said yall had gone on a trip and would be back soon, but something about the way he said it made me believe otherwise. Later that day, it was just Bruce who came back. I asked him where you were but he simply muttered that you’d left and went straight to his study. My heart cracked. It felt like you’d abandonment me. You did abandon me. You did all of this for me and you left me. I ruined your life and I will never get the chance to tell you that Im sorry. I felt almost numb, except for the stinging sensation in my chest. I knew this would happen but you gave me hope. Me and hope were never ones to get along. Our story more like mortal enemies but you bridged our gap and somehow you slipped through the crack and fell through. And it was all my fault.

My eyes cried that Wednesday. I was wondering through the night, and Id seen bruce. He looked upset so I wanted to sneak over and see what happened. You’d always said I wasn’t light on my feet. He just looked over and sighed. Like he was going through an inner battle and lost. He’d taken me down a dark room and when the lights turned on I realized that it was THE cave. The bat cave. Usually I would be excited but.. id seen the news lately. Batman and Robin were missing after the joker fight on Monday. And there’s been no news since. If Bruce is batman then.. I asked him if you were robin. He simply nodded his head. My eyes watered before I even got to speak next. I asked him where you were? What happened? Why won’t you come back? He told me that you were gone. That he’d been too late to save you. That there was nothing he could do. I wanted to tell him that it wasn’t his fault. That there’s risk with the jobs and no matter what i know he fought as hard as he could. But, I couldn’t speak. I tried to open my mouth, to even make a sound but it was gone. Silent tears flowed down my face like rivers and that is how we stood for what felt like forever. So it wasn’t my fault..but i still couldn’t protect him.

My hands bled that Thursday. Bruce told me, if I wanted to, that he would train me. I wouldn’t have to be “robin”, it could simply be self defense. I wanted revenge, I wanted to take down any evil out there. I told you, I didnt believe in heros and villains but I was wrong. Some people are destined to be evil and they must be taken down. Your soul was pure and you didnt deserve what happened. You were kind to a nobody like me..and this happened to you. I told Bruce that I didn’t want to be robin though. I wanted to be a canary. I wanted to have a separate meaning because I could never live up to your shoes. Because i wanted your memory to remain the same. So that Thursday, we were out all night. “Fighting” crime. I wanted everyone to remember my cape. I wanted you to.. wherever you were, to see it yourself.

My heart broke that Friday. Joker had released the video of what happened to you, that day. It was all over the news, it was everywhere. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t sleep. I wanted to take away your pain, I wanted to switch roles. I wanted to be the one that died just so you could live the life that you were supposed to get. The life that it seems like i stole. Unfortunalty life doesn’t work that way. It’s a series of unfortunate events. And i wonder if i had just made yours worse?

My soul left that Saturday. You’d came back. But it wasn’t you, but I knew it was you. Everything I saw, was you, Jason Todd but my heart knew that you weren’t Jason Todd. You were Red Hood. That wasn’t just a new name, that was a new you. You barely even recognized me as we fought. You said twinkle toes but it sounded malicious. You weren’t the boy I’d fell in love with. You were a stranger, a vigilante. You were simply a person that life dug its claws into. You changed and once again you left me in the dust.

That Sunday I knew what I had to do. I felt like I was the ghost of you, like everywhere I went the ghost of you followed me and I was forever reminded that I can’t live up to your shoes. Like i was an outsider who would never fit in. I felt hollow, Id lost my best friend and basically gained a new identity. And then I saw you, and you glared at me. You hated me…and that was my biggest nightmare. Literally. So I knew what I had to do. Id been thinking about it for a while. I stood on top of the clock tower, watching the whole town. Watching the cars, and hearing the sirens, and seeing the moon at its brightest. In moments like this, there would be reminiscing. Thinking about the good times..but i didn’t have much. All i saw was you. And then I fell. It didnt go in slow mo like the movies said, it was very fast. I even regretted it near the end. Not because i wanted to change my mind but because I saw you. Not Red Hood, but my Jason Todd, you tried to save me. But I knew it was too late, it was something I had to do. Goodbye. My love.

Uhm yea that’s it..sorry i haven’t posted. Writers block and what not!! I wanted to add pictures but i’m not really sure what to add…

[fisherrprince]

oh so alisaie’s exaggerated bully behavior is 80% fanon. saying this she casually picks up a large rock

[freak1demon69]

Me looking at Dirk’s dm that was like “like yeah go make fun of that guy who's date just fucking died. yeah of course you still have the higher moral ground triangle man” in clear reference to Triangley and Irving’s relationship in the wake of the Wizarro cult arc and going “haha yeah lol not gonna be funny this time around” knowing damn well me and Grace planned the poisoning event in advance and I was waiting for him to finish the Triangley poisoned art to let this beast out:

I actually have something funny to say about Irvingtwo and his “fandom” mischaracterization.

[autism-disco]

i can’t believe for a brief amount of time when i didn’t like requiems holy shit they’re so good??? i mean some movements can be boring but like if you listen to dies irae from mozart and don’t somewhat explode i do not understand you, also verdi’s dies irae it’s really the fucking song ever

[starkeysbunny]

tears [rafe cameron]

pairing - rafe cameron x reader

summary - rafe was a busy man. but, when his girl knocked on the doors of tannyhill with tears streaming down her cheeks—nothing was more important than her. and he’d fix whatever was bothering her. or whoever. he hated to see his girl cry.

warnings - none rlly, hurt/comfort, protective and attentive rafe

rafe sighed into his phone call when he heard a knock on the door. he stood in his father’s office—which was now his—pacing the room.

“hey, hey man, just hang on a sec, sorry.” he muttered to the potential investor before he put him on hold. he set his phone down on the desk and marched out of the office, curses and mumbles leaving his lips.

“somebody always fuckin’ needs something.” his hand rubs over his buzzed hair as his other hand curls in and out of a fist at his side. “goddamn. probably fuckin’ sarah and her stupid—“

his mumbles come to a halt when he opens the door and sees his girl standing there, tears staining her flushed cheeks. “rafe..” she whispers weakly, her frame shaking as she looks up at him.

“hey, hey, baby.” he says quickly, completely forgetting the phone call waiting for him as all his attention, worry, and concern is shifted to her. “what’s wrong, c’mere.”

his hand reaches for her wrist, pulling her into his chest. she lets out a quiet sob as she buries her face into his chest, stepping inside. he haphazardly pushes the door shut as he keeps her close to his chest and walks them both inside and through the foyer.

he whispers shh’s, and coos at her in his arms as he heads for the living room, sitting them both down. he softly pulls her from his chest, his head dipping down to her level. his hands come to her cheeks, wiping the tears off her soft skin.

“hey, baby, what happened? talk to me.” he says, his eyebrows furrowed with concern.

“i-i-“ she stammers, unable to get words out as she chokes on cries. her breathing quickens, getting close to hyperventilating. when she cries, she goes too fast, losing control of her breathing.

“hey, hey, no. don’t do that. c’mon baby, you know better. breathe, baby, breathe.”

she begins to slow down, her breathing coming back to normal. she keeps her eyes on rafe’s, slowly calming down.

“there ya go. atta’ girl. good job. breathe.” he praises, his head nodding softly as he watches her. once her breathing fully calms, she takes one last deep breath and wipes the last of her tears.

“now, gonna tell me what’s got your pretty little head so worried, hm?” he coos, his head tilting slightly. “what’s bothering you? who do i have to kill, huh?” he jokes with a grin. but to be honest—he probably wasn’t joking.

she sniffles, her eyebrows furrowing. “my uterus.” she whines. “i’m on my period. my cramps hurt like a bitch. and my mom is pissing me off.” she sniffles, stumbling over her words slightly. “and i’m hungry. and you weren’t answering, i know you’re busy. but i just really needed to see you, i’m sorry—“

“hey, hey, it’s okay.” he nods softly. “i’m here, it’s alright. i’m not busy, doesn’t matter.” he says matter-of-factly. he wraps his arms around her, pulling her into his chest. “what do you need? hm? i have that heating pad in my room i bought for you a couple months ago.” he whispers sweetly. “i can make you somethin? buy you stuff? i dunno, what do you need?”

he was willing to do anything, he didn’t care. when his baby cried, he’d move mountains to make her feel better. he’d go to every store in town, run up his credit card, do anything. as long as she got a smile on her face at the end of it.

she nods against his chest, looking up at him. “yeah.. the heating pad. and—and can you make me a grilled cheese? you make em’ so good.” she asks sweetly, her voice gentle and weak.

he smiles softly, looking down at the sweet girl in his arms. “yeah, baby, of course. i don’t know if they’re that good. everytime i make them, you’re usually drunk and it’s three in the morning. that might be why they taste so good.” he jokes.

she shoves his chest playfully. “i don’t care, you can’t fuck up a grilled cheese. please?”

he grins. “yeah, yeah. grilled cheese, heating pad. got it, baby. anything else?” he says thoughtfully, his fingers coming to push strands of hair off from where they stick to her tear strained cheeks.

she shakes her head. “just you.”

he smiles. “okay.” he kisses her forehead. “i’ll be right back, gimmie a few minutes to get all that.” he stands, making sure she’s laid comfortably on the couch. he grabs the blanket from the end of the couch and drapes it over her. his eyes search the living room, landing in the remote, he hands it to her.

he leans down, placing another kiss to her cheek this time. “put on whatever you want. i’ll be back, promise.”

he leaves her at the couch and heads back to the office. he picks up his phone and takes it off hold. “hey, gotta go. somethin’ came up. i’ll give you a call later.” he hung up before the guy could even get a word in.

nothing came before his girl.

[rosesradio]

🧍

[sukunasluvrr]

Nerd Gojo who was an absolute simp for you. The poor man so badly wanted to get his hands on you in some way, but he knew he wouldn’t have a chance. You were way out of his league. You, the popular girl who hung around people like Sukuna and Kenjaku and were always present in frat parties. Often ending up with a pillow between his legs and humping the poor fabric like a desperate dog while whimpering your name over and over again, leaving the sheet soiled with his sticky sperm and a hint of shame in his actions, how did he end up this down bad for you?? Nobody knew.

He’d often help you out with your studies and tests, often doing them for you after you bat your lashes prettily at him and asked him real nicely. It really didn’t take much to convince him, looking at you with puppy eyes and his glasses that sat so adorably on the bridge of his nose as he nods and mutters „of course..“ under his breath. But he couldn’t take it anymore, one day while you were in his dorm, him helping you with a project- he couldn’t help himself. He was already half hard because of your tits being in his sight and the smell of your perfume that invaded his senses. Looking at you with his usual puppy like stare as he took all the courage he had. “Can you… stay the night?” He asked almost in a hushed tone. You had to look twice to make sure you weren’t imagining this,

“You want me to stay the night?” You asked him, to make sure you didn’t just hear it wrong, but to your surprise, he nodded without hesitation, hands moving to your hips as he got onto his knees- actually begging for you

“Please… just give me this one night… I’ll let you do whatever you want to me, this night and the rest of our semesters… but I’m begging you, I just wanna feel you for once…“

He was so desperate… it was almost cute. And his offer was quite tempting, so you agreed and he practically grinned in excitement. Already pulling you to the bed and kissing over your skin in soft pecks, being so gentle with it, like you could break if he went to hard and rough on you. His hands big enough to cup both your breasts through your top as he started kneading the soft subtle flesh, small whimpers leaving him from the feeling as he made you lay back on his bed, straddling your hips and grinding lightly against you, feeling the imprint of his length pressing against you. He already felt big through the fabric and the man wasn’t even fully hard yet!! He was still gentle with you, constantly asking if you really want this to which you nodded and he kept going. Removing his glasses and putting them on the nightstand as he started undressing you, lips pressing against your neck. Getting your top and bra off with practiced ease, without even wasting another second his lips were kissing around your breasts, kissing the underside of one while the other was being teased by his hand, thumb circling around your nippe and lightly pinching it while his mouth worked on coating the other in his spit, tongue circling around it and softly sucking on it like he was worshipping your chest. Earning small sounds from your lips and your hand moving into his hair while he kept this up for a few minutes until you remembered his offer, softly pulling him off your chest

„You said you’ll let me do anything, right?“ your voice a little shaky and breathy from arousal, „and I wanna ride you, pretty“ and god you could see the wheels turning in his head as he made sense of your words. Hearts practically forming in his eyes as he nods eagerly, already sitting up to remove his clothes with shaky hands

„Yes!! Yes yes yes, anything for you“ the moment his clothes were off and he was left in his boxers with a obvious tent standing out, his hands were already on you again, your words seeming to having made him only 10 times more desperate and harder for you, pulling at your sweatpants to get them off of you and pulling you on top of him, eyebrows furrowed in a pathetic way and puppy eyes looking up at you

„do whatever you want to me… spit on me, use me like a stupid toy, I just want you… I need you“

His words so desperate and full of emotion as his hips started bucking up into yours, moaning at the stimulation to his sensitive clothed cock. Your hands finding way to to his chest for stability as you tried to get him to calm down, not even having gotten your panties off yet and the slick was smearing over your pussy lips almost uncomfortably

„ 'toru… calm down for a second, I’m not going anywhere“

You tried to reason with him, but your words went to blank ears while he kept grinding up against you, hands already starting to pull his boxers down and fingers pulling at the strings of your panties to get the flimsy fabric off your skin and get access to your sweet pussy, accidentally ripping the fabric and pulling it off, the moment he made eye contact with your glistened cunt he felt like he was in a dream, his movements stopping for once and hands parting your thighs a little more and pulling your closer to his hard and proud standing dick. Making you gasp for a second as you saw it, already knowing that the stretch would probably make your poor pussy remember him for the next few weeks. He of course noticed your stare, and he thought you were disappointed

„it’s not really that big… sorry to disa-„ the poor guy couldn’t even finish his words before you interrupted him

„NO! No, oh my god, you’re probably the biggest I’ve ever had“

And you could’ve sworn you saw a light twitch in his dick when he heard your words, a soft hint of red tinting his pale cheeks, watching as your hand moves around his cock to give a few pumps to it, watching and listening for his reactions while he gave the prettiest whimpers from himself, hips bucking into your hand for more, before he could get a word out, he watched you let a globe of spit drop onto his tip, making his lower stomach cave in a little from the sensation on his sensitive dick. Already starting to beg for more, eyes half lidded while he watched you tease his poor, already angry looking tip. Your hand smearing the salvia over his cock to lube him up a bit before you moved, hovering a little over him with your knees pressed into the mattress and your entrance teasing his tip, letting it slip in and out faintly but never truly sinking down on him, making him almost cry while he endured the sweet torture of your pussy. The feel of your slick hole against his sticky tip almost too much to bear, having spend weeks if not months imagining how it would feel while fisting his dick to the thought of you almost pathetically at night. And now he was so so close to getting what he wanted, to feeling the slick warm walls of your heat around his throbbing length. It took some encouragement to actually have you sink down on him, the stretch mean and making you hiss a little, earning a small look of concern from him, his hands moving to your hips and rubbing soft circles into your skin in an attempt to soothe you while you got used to the size of him inside of you. The moment you started moving your hips against him, he felt like he ascended to heaven. A small groan leaving him and head titling back into the pillows to focus on your hips working to bounce along his dick, not able to keep his own from thrusting up into you from below- weakly at first but picking up in pace and firmness the faster you got. His eyes fixated on your face to look at every crunch of your nose, brows and the part of your lips whole moans left your mouth, his moans and groans being heard along yours, as well as the undeniable sound of skin against skin and the soft squelches of your cunt working on his dick to milk his cum from him. His fingers still digging into your hips but not moving them to bring you out of rhythm. Each stroke of your warm cunt around his dick had his mouth gaping and slutty sounds escaping from it. Your slick already trickling down his length and coating his balls, surely leaving a mess on the sheets but neither of you cared when you were riding him so good. Trying to keep his eyes on you and watching your tits bounce, unable to resist but move his hands to cup the soft flesh and knead gently

„you’re so pretty sweetheart…“ he muttered under his breath, his voice sounding somewhat shaky along with his whines and moans of pleasure

„don’t wanna be without your pussy ever again… ngh- fuck…. Keep going“

It was embarrassing to say he got close already, having been hard ever since you were with him and being so needy for you he couldn’t control himself, a pathetic whine leaving and eyebrows furrowing as his eyes closed „mhhff…. I’m gonna cum…“ his words were barely heard by you, wing lost in your own world and almost in a trance while using his dick to get yourself off, but you weren’t gonna be cruel… how could you be cruel to the sweet, nerd guy, who collected comics and who actually knew something about female anatomy???

„Go on Baby… cum for me“ giving him the go ahead because you were close yourself. Working the both of you to the edge at the same time, moaning your name as he came with a thrust up into your cunt, hands pulling you down by your hips to keep your warm walls around his dick, feeling your inner walls throb around his spent cock while you came at the same time as him was even better, feeling like he was being killed by your tight heat- breath coming out in gasps and brain going blank. „Ohhh ffffucck“ was all he could mutter out, you still gave weak grinds of your hips against his, rising out your own pleasure before you came to a stop and slumped down against him, face against his chest and listening to his fast heartbeat. Keeping him seethed inside of you, too exhausted to have him pull out just yet. But.. to your shock, he was still hard. Barely even calmed down from his highs and already bucking into you again

„Mff, another round??“

[joemama-2]

it’s late at night. he’s already situated on the bed, seeing you come into the room with unkempt hair, you shirt has splotches of dried milk and your movements are slow. tired.

why wouldn’t you be?

an energetic three year old who’s just like his father is hard to maintain. though you wouldn’t trade it for the world. “come here, baby.” he pats his lap, grinning softly.

you look over from where you’re taking off your jewelry for the day, in attempt to get ready for your nightly shower. “hm? for what?”

his eyes follow your every movement, patting his lap once more. “you know exactly why. cmon, daddy needs some stress relief.”

the laugh you let out causes his face to soften, admiring you in a way that’s reserved solely for his wife, for the mother of his son. “i thought we agreed you couldn’t call yourself that anymore.”

he adjusts himself when he sees you come over, crawling on the bed to situate yourself in a straddling position over his hips. his hands fall into place on the curve of your waist, thumbs rubbing small circles on the small patch of skin that shows when your shirt lifts up. “you did. i didn’t.”

“it’s cringey.”

“so?”

you huff, eyes rolling. he dips his head forward into the crook of your neck, planting a trail of warm kisses. “satoru, are you sure?”

“are you sure?” he asks, voice muffled by your skin. “i just want to pamper my wife after a long day, can’t i do that?”

“i feel hideous right now.”

he tips his head back, bright eyes staring back at you with an intensity you’ve come to associate with. the kind of intensity that lets you know whatever he says—he means it. “hideous? what did i say before, huh? i said don’t even think about saying stupid stuff like that again. and look at you now.”

your lips downturn. “don’t say that just to make me feel better.”

“i’m not,” he places a firm kiss to your lips. “you look beautiful every day, every second of the day. but you look especially gorgeous right now.”

you narrow your eyes at him, skeptical. “why right now?”

satoru’s lips quirk into a sly grin, his thumbs still tracing those comforting circles on your waist. "because right now, I see my whole world in front of me. the woman who gave me everything I could ever want—a family, a home, a reason to come back every single day.”

the weight of his words presses against the exhaustion hanging over you. it’s not just flattery. it’s raw and genuine, just like him, and it makes your chest ache in the best way. “you’re so cheesy, you know that?”

“and you’re so heavenly,” his grin widens, leaning in closer until your noses almost touch. “but you love my cheesiness, don’t you? admit it.”

your lips twitch, a small smile breaking through despite your best efforts to keep a straight face. “maybe I do.”

“there it is,” he murmurs, pressing another kiss to your lips, softer this time, as if he’s handling something fragile. “that smile’s all I need to get through anything.”

the words wrap around your tired soul like a warm blanket. and for a moment, the weight of the day fades, replaced by the solid, steady presence of him—your husband, your partner, the man who never fails to make you feel like the most important person in the world.

you sigh, resting your forehead against his. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Wrong.” his voice is firm, his hands steady as they pull you just a little closer, subtly rubbing you against his clothed cock. “I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you.”

and in that quiet, intimate moment, with the world outside fading into irrelevance, you believe him.

"now let me pamper you like I promised." he switches positions, hovering above you as you lay on your back. leaning down to raise the hem of your shirt, trailing sweet kisses and licks against your stomach—heading further south. your hips raise slightly as he discards your lounge pants, breath hitching in anticipation. hand running down through the streaks of his white hair, he smiles at the sight of your pussy hidden behind the grandma underwear you adorn.

hot breath tickling your core that leaves you almost jerking upwards for more. he kisses your clit through the loose fabric. “besides, mommy needs her fix too, doesn’t she?”

[astonmartinii]

other side of the moon - chapter five | formula one imagine

chapter five: enter stage left

pairing: fem retired formula one driver reader x ??? fem retired formula one driver reader x platonic!kimi antonelli

one big car launch with every driver in attendance - what can go wrong?

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR | SERIES MASTERLIST

whatever bright spark decided that formula one needed one big, fancy car launch must want y/n dead. here she stood in one of the many green rooms in a black dress that’s a little too tight and an absolute pain to sit down in.

on one side of the room george sits in his dressing gown being doted on five different people while he talks down the phone in a tone too loud for the crowded room. kimi, on the other hand, sits on the couch on the other side, having waved off all of the people trying to smear yet another cream on his face.

“are you just going to be haunting me all season?” george said as he hung up the phone. glaring at y/n through the mirror.

“if i’m haunting you, does that mean you did something wrong?” y/n gasps, “am i the skeleton in your closet, georgie?”

the mercedes personnel in the green room were still, almost waiting for it to hit boiling point and all spill over. george and y/n stared each other down, waiting for someone to make the next move. george steadily looked y/n up and down, not being subtle at all. y/n raised her eyebrow at the brit.

“i could get used to you in my colours,” george said with a smirk.

“bore off russell, i don’t wear anything for you. these will be seen as kimi’s colours before you know it.”

a knock on the door signalled the start of the show. george stood up and took off his robe, revealing the new mercedes racesuit for the season. the brit made his way to the door but before he left, he turned to y/n and said, “don’t get too comfortable, i have my eye on you”

“oh georgie, you always have,” y/n flirted before schooling her face, “and how has that worked out for you?”

the brit pointed to his racesuit, “better than it has for you.”

that was a low blow, but y/n was prepared to play it that way if that was the game for the season. george looked at her again, as if to challenge her, but y/n stayed silent though her stare was unwavering. she had said a lot worse about herself to herself after the crash.

with that george turned and left, calling out to alex down the corridor.

“i really don’t understand him,” kimi said, “it was only like a week or two ago he was cussing you out in monaco, then today he checks you out but then threatens you like two seconds later?”

“first lesson of the year, kimi. do not trust a word that man says to you.”

the pair linked arms and made their way out of the green room. there was a gaggle of drivers at the end of the corridor, all decked out in their racesuits except the ferrari boys who were in normal suits. the group fell silent as they all turned to see the new arrivals.

“i didn’t know it was bring your mum to work day?” alex called out as they neared the group, smiling as he came to hug her.

a french-accented voice hollered a ‘milf’ from the back of the group, y/n suspected it was pierre, but paid no mind. an offended squeak followed as y/n looked up to see max delivering a slap to the back of his head.

“i’m just dropping him off, i gotta get to my seat before i’m roped into an interview. i had to sneak in this afternoon, i swear sky sports are like stalking me!”

the group watched along as y/n leaned in to whisper into kimi’s ear, “remember what i told you. smile, be likeable and tell jokes. these people are underestimating you, let them. we’ll do our real talking in the car. good luck and try and have some fun.”

the pair did their ‘handshake’, which really was just a pinky promise, and broke apart. y/n looks back at the group one more time, smiles at max and takes her leave. just a couple paces down the corridor, a voice called out her name.

“y/n, hey!” lewis called, catching up to her quickly, “i didn’t think i’d see you back here tonight.”

“i wasn’t planning on it, to be fair. kimi is technically an adult now, but i still didn’t want to leave him on his own here of all places.”

lewis laughed as the pair looked back at the group. kimi had nestled himself next to ollie, quietly talking to each other with esteban looking over both of them. y/n caught the gaze of esteban and the frenchman gave her a quick nod before inserting himself into the conversation. the height difference between kimi and esteban was comical, but y/n was happy knowing esteban would look out for him in places she couldn’t be.

“i didn’t think you would like the whole mentor role, being so young and everything, but you seem to be doing a good job.”

“thank you lewis, but honestly he makes it very easy,” y/n looked at the group again with a fond look on her face.

lewis brought his hand to her face and made her look at him, “i thought i’d never see that look on your face again.”

y/n looked down and blushed, shaking lewis’ hand off. “i am happy. a lot happier than i expected to be, anyway.”

“i’m happy that you’re happy. i’m happy you’re back, i won’t keep my distance this time, even if you’re in the home of the enemy now.”

y/n laughed, “well i thought it was bad going back to your ex, and look at me now. so maybe they’re not as much as an enemy as you think.”

an announcement from further down the corridor cute the conversation there, lewis tries not to look bothered, but y/n can still tell.

“looks like you’re needed elsewhere, superstar,” y/n said with a wink, “try not to let charles outshine you too much.”

“he wishes.”

y/n watched him walk away and was confused. lewis had never expressed interest in her before, platonic or romantic. even when she was a young rookie with stars in her eyes, she was never on his radar. was she now? the visit in london had been weird and the way his eyes had been fixed on her since she arrived today was even weirder.

y/n didn’t really have the time to be grappling with that struggle today, not with everything else going on. the audience seemed like enough distance between her and lando, but after monaco, there was no real knowing what could happen. george was just as confusing as his compatriot, with harsh words but also a glimmer of something else too.

she needed a glass of champagne pronto.

max watched the interaction between y/n and lewis like a hawk, so focused that he didn’t realise that he had formed quite an audience. nico hulkenberg, kimi, ollie and esteban watched him try and conceal his feelings, but his face showed every thought.

“you want to make it any more obvious that you’re jealous?” nico said, nudging max to break him out of his daze.

“i’m not jealous, i just wonder what they actually have to talk about…”

“you’re not jealous you say? you didn’t even glare at him this much during 2021.” esteban chimed in.

max furrowed his brows and forced himself to look away. he already felt guilty for harbouring these feelings for y/n and now he’s faced with a curious look from kimi, making him feel even worse. he did not want to make the same mistake as lando and george had in the past. he meant it when he said he just wanted to exist with her.

“kimi, how would you feel about having max as your dad?” ollie said, hiding slightly behind esteban.

“he’s very good with the cats?”

“thanks, that’s such a glowing recommendation, kimi, thanks!”

kimi held up his hands in surrender but max couldn’t be angry at the italian - plus he did take very good care of his cats and brando. in fact, he had nearly thrown his back out, much to red bull’s chagrin, building a new cat tower so brando could watch the birds from his preferred spot. the cat had settled in well in his place in monaco while y/n had been staying, the dutchman didn’t want to think too much about what it could mean, but it was on his mind.

“i just mean i caught you googling how to make sure your cat is getting enough vitamin d because you were worried about how cloudy it’s been in monaco?”

kimi tried to backpedal, but his anecdote was overheard by more drivers, bringing them into the conversation.

“are you being for real? vitamins are just pseudoscience dude,” pierre said but isack popped his head into the circle to say, “vitamins are real? and vitamin d deficiency is actually a really huge problem.”

“thank you isack!”

“as if i’m taking health advice from a rookie,” pierre laughed. yuki took his turn to pipe up next, “i saw you eat a whole jar of peanut butter in one sitting last winter break? what do you know about health?”

“why is it gang up on pierre hour? why aren’t we focusing on the real issue here? like how pathetic max is about y/n?”

max sputtered as even more drivers joined the conversation.

“i am not pathetic. brando is practically my son. kimi back me up, doesn’t he love me?”

“he does -” kimi started defending max before charles butted in with a: “calling for help from the other son? we see how it is verstappen.”

this was a losing battle. max just hoped it stayed this light hearted but he saw lando and george approaching the group.

“max is not my dad, but i wouldn’t mind. he drove all the way to nice to pick up my parcel because i didn’t understand monaco postal charges!”

poor kimi was trying to help, but he was just making it inadvertently worse.

“this is making your pseudoadoption last year look like child’s play, oscar,” alex said, earning him a whack from charles.

“kimi is not my son, but that doesn’t mean i won’t look out for him. this is a horrible place to come when you’re already disliked. some people, not naming names, have made it clear they have a problem with him and y/n, so it’s simply my moral duty to look out for him.”

the group quietened down, looking amongst each other.

“why am i so out of the loop, who is bullying this literal child?” nico said, pulling kimi into his chest, the italian letting out a squeak as the german petted him. “so? do tell.”

for two people who were very eager to call y/n and kimi every name under the sun just a week ago, they were very silent in that moment.

“oh! we’re talking about the lovely cocktail party i threw that was ruined by lando and george!” charles blurted out, he grabbed fernando’s hand, “it was so nice, i even brought olives, but they came in spouting all this shit about y/n and kimi and seduction and older women?”

both brits scratched the backs of their necks. the cocktail party drama was not a good move from them, especially so close to the start of the season.

“it wasn’t quite like that?” george hurried out.

“you accused y/n of trying to sleep with me?” oscar said.

“you said that i was going the max verstappen route of getting with an older ‘problematic’ woman?” kimi added from nico’s side.

“you also kinda implicated yourself in y/n’s crash?” alex heaped on for good measure.

“alex!?” george and lando shouted, “whose side are you meant to be on?”

“i’m not on a “side” because i’m not fucking five, but i will point out hypocrisy and stupidity and that’s both of you. come on, it’s 2025 and you guys are still stuck in like 2017.”

“right, i feel really stupid because what the fuck are you people talking about and why wasn’t i invited to this party?” fernando said, a confused look on his face.

“lando and george are still hung up on y/n years later even though she never actually expressed interest in them, max has the best odds on actually sealing the deal and i don’t know, kimi is getting shit because he brought her back and none of them can actually regulate their emotions!” charles said, exasperated, “keep up grandpa, you’ve been here the whole time!”

“i do not have the ‘best odds’ because y/n isn’t a horse, you don’t bet on women?” max bit back.

“actually i bet on women all the time,” yuki said but when he saw how the group were looking at him he added, “ufc, duh!”

even as they were herded towards the backstage, the group continued bickering like children.

“all i’m saying is that your crush is super obvious and you need to be careful! y/n will know and will use it against you, just look at what happened with me and george!” lando hissed at max.

the dutchman glared at the brit, this really had gone too far. “can you like actually give me an example of where she ‘led you on’ i am genuinely curious,” max snipped, “quickly.”

lando immediately looked at the floor and bit his lip. max began tapping his foot with an impatient look.

“well she would be super flirty with me in the videos the team would make us film?” lando didn’t sound convinced, and max didn’t buy a single second of it.

“if that’s what you think flirting is i feel sorry for all of your ex girlfriends, you must be a horrible boyfriend - ouch!” charles was cut off by a shove from george.

“stay out of this charles!”

“i won’t stay out of this, y/n is actually a friend of mine. yeah that’s right she doesn’t hate me because i don’t assume that any girl who is fractionally nice to me is in love with me.”

“lando you basically tortured that girl her entire formula one career, do you need to do it now as well?” max said, “i think this season will be a lot easier for you if you drop this now.”

“is that a threat?”

“it’s a promise.”

all the bickering surrounding the pair ceased, tension rising in the air. the call for the mclaren boys drew lando out of his stare down with max. the brit joined oscar at the front of the queue and painted on his PR smile.

y/n had found her way to her seat, flanked by natalie pinkham on one side and jenson button on the other. there goes her plans for a quiet evening.

“so the rumours are true,” jenson said before jumping up to give her a hug, “i’ve missed you, rocky”

y/n flushed at the nickname. since her first ever race in formula one, jenson had crowned her his ‘pocket rocket’ which had eventually been worn down to just rocky. she hadn’t heard it in so long, jenson’s appearances being relegated to messages via sara or flowers that only gave away his identity with the use of rocky.

“did sky set up this seating arrangement? are you going to ambush me for an interview?”

“i can’t believe you’d think so low of me,” jenson clutched at his imaginary pearls, “and as if you can say no to me anyway.”

the pair took their seats as the show started. natalie handed her a glass of champagne and whispered in her ear, “you might need this.” well that doesn’t bode well.

the two mclaren drivers made their way out onto stage, joined by zak and andrea. y/n leaned into jenson, “i don’t understand why he insists on being everywhere, have we not suffered enough?”

jenson tried to stifle his laugh, “are you sure you don’t want to work in commentary?”

“i think it’s best i keep my opinion on these men to myself.”

the mclaren spiel followed the closely the same scripts they used when y/n still raced for them, though a healthy dose of constructors champions boasting had been added. a second questionable decision from formula one reared it’s head when nico rosberg asked his first unscripted question:

“so boys, how do you feel about the return of former mclaren driver y/n y/ln to the paddock? excited to see her?”

y/n swore she could see lando’s eye twitch from her front row seat. there was an awkward pause and y/n could feel the rest of the audience tense. even though the general public didn’t know the ins and outs of the fall out, there was definitely rising suspicion.

nico found y/n in the audience and gave her such a shit-eating grin that she almost didn’t care about the situation he just put her in.

“we’re of course over the moon to see her back in the paddock. i know i’ve harboured a lot of guilt as to how i ended up with my seat, so i’m happy that y/n can see me in action and hopefully i can continue to make her proud!” oscar said with a genuine smile, the only convincing one from the men clad in orange.

“continue to?” nico asked, “have you had confirmation of this?”

y/n’s eyes snapped to oscar who despite receiving glares from his boss, continued on.

“we spoke at charles’ cocktail party. i’ve always been a fan of hers and it was great to finally set the record straight. she was a lot more graceful than i would’ve been in her position. to be honest i was a bit of a weepy mess, but she was very supportive. i’m only slightly jealous of kimi…”

“very nice. did you get any insight on her opinion on hungary?” nico pushed, only to be cut off by zak.

“if you so desperately want her opinion on everything, you can wait until you’re on sky’s dime. this is a car launch, no? we’re confident in our car for this season and intend on winning both championships. and do you know how we’re going to do that? with the two drivers on stage right now, not one who was a flash in the pan four years ago.”

you could hear a pin drop in the venue. even lando had a shocked look on his face as he and oscar exchanged a look.

“that’s fighting talk from the man who ended her career, but what do i know?” nico said sharply but then turned to the audience, “ladies and gentlemen, mclaren!”

there was tentative applause from crowd and when y/n and oscar made eye contact she gave him a small smile. this was only the first team…

nico looked for y/n in the front row and gave her a thumbs up to which she shook her head violently. jenson burst out laughing, “well, i don’t think we’ll be having this as the car launch format again.”

“i don’t know about you but i’m throughly entertained,” natalie said, “if nico was like that with mclaren, i can’t wait for ferrari!”

the next few teams were decidedly less dramatic. y/n could see kimi and george lining up next to come on stage and she hoped the italian remembered her advice.

george walked on stage with confident strides, followed by toto and finally kimi. the italian looked out at the audience, squinting from the harsh lights but calming his features when he saw y/n. she gave him a thumbs up and got a smile in return.

“you’re loving this mum role aren’t you?” jenson said.

“you’re making me feel old, stop. but yes i would kill myself if anything happened to him, so i guess so.”

back on stage, nico had started his interview. first toto was being grilled about the hopes for the season and how life at mercedes would be without lewis hamilton. the german was clearly trying to bait his former boss into giving him a juicy soundbite.

“kimi, let’s come to you now. you’re first season in formula one and you’ve already brought in the big guns? y/n y/ln as your mentor, that’s a big statement.”

kimi looked startled and his eyes snapped to meet y/n’s. she nodded to him, urging him to answer.

“why wouldn’t i want a legend of the sport like her as my mentor? she still knows what she’s doing, and if it ruffles some feathers in the paddock at the same time, what’s the harm?”

she was so proud of her protégé. jenson choked on his champagne at kimi’s answer, “kids got balls.”

“well, well, well. you’re not beating around the bush are you? but do tell me, kimi, what’s so special about you that y/n would come out of retirement?”

“i’ll save that answer for australia, nico,” kimi said, surprised by the laughs from the audience, “but maybe i’ve just got a charm the rest of the grid doesn’t?”

“holy shit,” natalie said, “was this the strategy, y/n?”

“i told him to make them like him? are you not entertained?”

nico, for once, was speechless on stage. george huffed next to toto, waiting for his turn to talk. the german clocked onto this and a devilish smile broke out on his face.

“so george, you and y/n grew up together… do you not have charm? as far as we can tell, you haven’t spoken to y/n in years?”

y/n’s mouth dropped open. jenson was right, there’s no way this format, at least with nico hosting, was ever happening again.

“i have more than enough charm, thank you nico. are you going to ask us anymore questions about the season or is it all just tabloid questions from you tonight?”

“tabloid?! well, now that makes me think you’ve got something to hide… but as for your 2025 season, are you afraid that you might lose to an 18-year-old rookie?”

george sputtered in response, “i have no fear of losing, i just beat a seven time world champion, a rookie, no offence, has no bearing on my season.”

“that’s a big claim, george. you better hope you stick to it. it’ll be your sixth season in formula one, do you think you’ll finally be able to claim the number one driver role?”

george’s face was getting redder and redder as he tried to remain calm. he made eye contact with y/n briefly, giving her the subtlest glare he could.

“i think i made a very good case for myself for the last two seasons and toto has faith in me to lead this team back to where they should be.”

nico had a wolfish grin on his face, he was enjoying this psychological torture a little too much.

“you don’t think toto has more faith in kimi, a driver he allowed to skip an entire step on the junior ladder and is giving his formula one debut at just 18? and straight into a mercedes rather than say… a williams?”

george’s shiny mask was starting to slip. this was meant to be a fun event for fans but had descended into a nico rosberg masterclass of making everyone suffer - and for once y/n was enjoying it.

“classy as always, nico,” george said.

“it’s what i do best,” nico laughed to himself, “back to you kimi, are you intimidated at all by your senior teammate? do you think you can make a case for yourself as the number one driver?”

the italian paused for a moment, thinking to y/n’s advice - he needed people to like him.

“i’m more than happy to play a team game to bring mercedes back to the top,” he smiled to toto, “but make no mistake i’m here to win and i won’t just step aside without good reason.”

“well, this is a duo i’ll be watching closely this season. mercedes!”

the trio shuffled off of stage and y/n let out a sigh of relief, she could throw back as much champagne as she wanted now.

another couple of teams made their way past nico’s questioning, but as nico hulkenberg and gabriel bortoleto made their way off of the stage the audience held their breath. next was ferrari.

charles, lewis and fred vasseur made their way on stage, and as has become classic fashion, lewis situated himself as far from nico as possible.

“welcome, welcome. a different line up this year and much to think about, do you think you can finally bring the championship back to italy?”

fred started on what was likely a pre-written script and y/n tuned out for a second. the ferrari boys looked nothing short of glamorous in their tailored black suits with the yellow of the ferrari logo popping on the left breast. both men looked assured, no nerves, just pure confidence - the type of confidence that draws you to a person.

y/n caught lewis’ eye and he gave her a quick wink, something that did not go unnoticed by jenson beside her.

“what was that all about, rocky?” jenson whispered. y/n kept looking forward, ignoring jenson’s stare burning into the side of her head. the brit kept poking her, “i’m not going to stop until you answer me!”

y/n batted his hand away, “i don’t know what you’re talking about old man, leave me alone!”

“i saw that, hell, the whole place saw that! you are aware that is a man 14 years your senior!”

y/n downed her champagne and whispered to jenson, “listen, i don’t know what the fuck is happening! he came to my apartment and he’s being really nice? i don’t know?!”

jenson looked between the two and grabbed his own champagne. “i was teammates with that guy! you might be a grown up now but he’s really old!”

y/n slapped a hand over her mouth to stop her laughing out loud. jenson did have a point. was lewis actually flirting with her or was he just being nice? was she falling into the same headspace that lando and george were in with her?

“i am not going to get with lewis, jens. he’s just being nice, that’s all. now shut up i want to see if nico makes the brocedes breakup all of our problem.”

nico had finished his interrogation of charles and set his sights on his former teammate. y/n grabbed jenson’s hand in anticipation.

“so lewis, new team, new you? how do you feel coming into a team where charles has dominated for the last five years?”

lewis gives nico a forced smile, “i am excited for the challenge. there’s a lot of changes coming into this season, people leaving and new faces. it’s best to face a challenge head on rather than running.”

“you didn’t run from mercedes? you didn’t want to stick it out and retire with the team that gave you so much success?”

“you’d know all about running wouldn’t you nico?”

y/n dropped her glass of champagne and the rest of the audience gasped but nico did not look phased at all.

“i am happy with my decision, time will tell if you’ll be happy with yours. charles dealt with sebastian, don’t think he’ll roll over for you.”

charles looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but on stage and fred’s face would tell you he’s at the gallows rather than a car launch.

“was in your brief today to make the vibes in here as rancid as possible? as i said i am excited for the season ahead and nothing you can say today will change that.”

lewis took the lead and left the stage, leaving nico alone with a pleased look on his face. the german found y/n’s gaze again and wiggled his eyebrows. if there was ever a man you need to take the heat off of you, he was the one.

there was one final team to go and this entire nightmare of a night would be over. the final team was none other than red bull - nothing could possibly go wrong here could they?

christian, like the other team principals, started with a long-winded spiel that said a whole lot of nothing. y/n smiled widely when she caught max’s eye and he responded with an eye roll directed at christian’s rambling. the dutchman, for a second, had forgotten he was in fact on stage in front of thousands. the pair stare at each other and bite their lips to keep the laughs in.

jenson leaned in again, “not to keep questioning you, but what is happening here? and don’t lie, i know he’s the only one you kept in contact with and who you have been staying with in monaco.”

“it’s nothing! it’s something? i don’t know what it is? we’re just existing together. i think romance in the paddock is the worst thing for me right now. i need to be fully focused on kimi.”

“first of all - we’re exisiting together? that’s so fucking gross. and two - you’re still allowed to have fun?” jenson wiggled his eyebrows.

“not everyone can be the playboy of formula one, stud.”

“true. i’m not sure you have the devilishly good looks to be a playboy - hey”

y/n snatched his glass of champagne and turned back towards the stage just as max took to the microphone.

“so max, do you think there’s a chance of a fifth title in a row?”

max laughed in his signature way, “here i thought you’d gotten all of your aggression out with lewis. we’ll have to see how we line up against the other teams, but you always have to believe you can win every single race, so that’s what i’ll continue to do.”

a quick glance from nico told y/n that her peaceful night hadn’t started just yet.

“you’ll finally have your best friend back in the paddock, are you still excited even though she’ll be in mercedes uniform?”

“i think toto has another thing coming if he thinks she’ll be wearing that ugly uniform,” max said, “but it makes no difference to me what garage y/n is in, we’re like magnets, you can’t keep us a part for long.”

nico hummed, “is that why you were the only one she kept in contact with after the crash?”

“yes? it’s mostly because we’re best friends but also because i’m a decent human being.”

oh fuck.

“how do you mean, max?”

christian tried to butt in, “i don’t think we need to go into that here.”

“oh i’m more than happy to, and nico has been stirring all night, what’s just a little more to add to the pot?”

you could almost hear the audience shuffling to the edge of their seats and for the first time that evening, y/n felt some of the cameras on her. she gave them a small wave and hoped they would pan back to the actual action.

“all i’m saying is that there are a lot of victim complexes in the paddock, it’s full of people who would rather say ‘i don’t know why she doesn’t talk to me?’ rather than do some actual introspection. y/n will talk to you if you’re not an asshole, just as kimi.”

“so you’re saying there’s a truth to the rumours?”

“which rumours? you know, since your employers like to report on so many?”

nico chuckled, “well, the rumours that perhaps the brits in the paddock didn’t get on as well as we were led to believe?”

max smiled, “well, that’s not my story to tell, but i’ve found that if you ask them, they’re more than happy to give you the scoop.”

for a moment, y/n’s heart stopped, fearing that nico would take this as the chance to bring her into the fray. max seemed to sense this as well and added, “but as for me, i’m just happy she’s back in any capacity. i’ve missed my partner in crime.”

“have you spoken about formula one in her break at all? you won all four of your titles in that time?”

“i know she watched it, but we haven’t spoken about it. i respected her boundaries at the time, but i knew she was watching based on some suspiciously timed texts.”

nico laughed, “i’m not sure we can ever stay away from this sport for long.”

“i’m glad that is the case,” max said, more to himself than anyone else.

the red bull boys were ushered off of the stage as nico delivered his closing remarks and announced the musical guests.

“he’s glad that’s the case? oh he’s in deep,” jenson gasped, “you can’t tell me that’s nothing, i rebuke it right this second.”

y/n sighed, standing and heading to the backstage bar. “i really don’t want to think about it jenson.”

“but you’re staying at his house, he’s building shit for your cat and gushing about you on stage!”

“i am well aware, but i don’t really know what you want me to do about that?”

“i want you to get your man and let him treat you how you’re supposed to be!”

y/n picked up another glass of champagne, talking the biggest sip before replying to jenson.

“you’re just as bad as the girls on twitter sometimes.”

kimi bursts through the doors, back in his comfy clothes, and rushes over to y/n. she wraps the italian into a hug.

“i’m so proud of you!”

kimi blushes, rocking back and forth on his feet, “thank you, y/n! i’m so glad we’ve got this out of the way i’m ready to race now!”

jenson laughed along side them, “an eager one, this one. i remember when i had that much energy.”

the rest of the drivers flooded into the room, grabbing drinks or just taking a seat. max, much like kimi, made his way straight to y/n, also pulling her into his chest. he whispered in her ear, “i’m sorry i got carried away talking about you, i just can’t help myself.”

y/n can’t help but feel the butterflies in her stomach at the confession. she was really trying to keep her feelings out of her return to formula one, but seeing max like this was putting a real spanner in the works. the dutchman’s protective nature along side his intense respect for her made her feel special for the first time since the crash.

“i take no offence, maxy. i’ll never say no to a compliment, especially from you.”

the group moves away from the bar and as they settle into their seats backstage, max’s arm wraps around her waist. y/n knew she shouldn’t do it, not here in front of everyone but that’s what her heart wanted. the first few weeks into her return and all the drama was wearing on her and they hadn’t even made it to the paddock yet. she snuggled into max’s side, letting the dutchman brush her hair out of her face.

“y/n?” kimi said from the other side of her, “i’m really happy you’re here, and i hope you’ll let yourself have this,” kimi motioned to max, who was deep in conversation with jenson.

“don’t you worry about that, kimi.”

“you’ve punished yourself for years, please don’t keep telling yourself that you’re not allowed this. also don’t wait up for me, i’m going to crash at ollie’s”

kimi said as his departing gift as he went to catch up with ollie and watch some of the music. y/n let herself relax back into max’s hold and her eyes close, all of the pent up stress of the evening rushing out.

“are we really that boring?” jenson asked.

“do you want to get out of here, y/n?” max asked, when y/n flopped further onto him, he took that as his answer.

grabbing her bag, max took y/n’s hand in his and pulled her from the seat. the pair exchanged hugs with jenson and made a quiet exit from backstage. they tried to be as subtle as possible, but nothing is ever secret in formula one.

jenson slid in beside lewis at the bar.

“you want to tell me what your plan is with her?”

lewis looked at his former teammate in confusion.

“i saw that wink and i know you were flirting with her when you went to her apartment. what’s the plan, you’re 14 years older than her?”

“i don’t have a plan? i felt bad about how i was when she was in formula one, i’m just trying to make her feel welcome again.”

“and winking at her at a televised event is definitely going to help?”

lewis scoffed, “i don’t really like what you’re implying.”

“i’m implying that you need to watch your step, seriously. the vultures are just waiting for her to make one wrong step, don’t give them an excuse to call her a gold digger or anything along those lines.”

“and what if i said i did like her?”

“i’d ask you if you actually know her? you didn’t speak to her after the crash, you didn’t speak to her when she was in the sport so i’m confused to where this would have come from?”

“you can drop the dad act jenson, i’m just being friendly. it looks like max got in there first anyway.”

jenson hummed, “not everything is a competition.”

y/n and max climbed into max’s hire car for the weekend and finally let themselves breathe.

“that was a lot,” y/n said, slipping off her heels, “nico really was out for blood.”

“i found it entertaining, but that usually is a death wish for anything in formula one.”

the pair laughed, and as max turned the ignition, y/n’s taylor swift playlist crackled into life.

“are you heading back to your hotel or do you want to crash at mine?” y/n asked as she put her address into the gps, despite max knowing nearly every route across london to her apartment.

“a chance to avoid team duties for as long as possible? count me in!”

“so you don’t want to spend more time with me? just want to avoid your team?”

max placed his hand on her thigh, “you know i always want to spend more time with you.”

the streets were relatively clear at this time with the event still in swing. max weaved through traffic as they entered west london. the dutchman nestled his car in y/n’s spot for her pink cadillac that was still in monaco. y/n started to fiddle with her heels to put them back on, but max stopped her.

he walked round to her side of the car and picked up her up bridal style. y/n giggled and wrapped her arms around max’s neck. the pair made their way up to her apartment as fast as possible, but made sure to say hi to frank who not so subtlety gave y/n a thumbs up and a wink.

the apartment was quiet without the meows of brando who was also back in monaco with jimmy and sassy. max stopped in the kitchen to pour two glasses of water but y/n went ahead to the bathroom to wash off the grime of the event.

she slipped into bed dressed in her pjamas that consisted of some old gym shorts and one of max’s toro rosso shirts. the dutchman knocked on her door.

“come in, maxy.”

max made his way into the room, placing the glass of water on her beside table. he sat on the edge of the bed, “good night, try not to dream of me too much.” the dutchman leaned down to give her a kiss on the forehead before moving back towards the door.

“max?”

“yes?”

“will you stay with me?”

“always.”

max got under the covers and tentatively reached out to her. sensing the apprehension, y/n turned over and tucked herself under max’s chin. his arms snuck around her waist and for the first time in three years, y/n finally slept peacefully without the images of her crash.

fin.

note: sorry this took so long, i've been a bit of a writing rut but i'm back!

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[seumyo]

BAKUGOU KATSUKI ⭑.ᐟ A SERENE CELEBRATION, MERRY CHRISTMAS

A younger Bakugou Katsuki had always been certain of his future. At 26, he’d be a man with it all: a nice house, a career as the undisputed Number One Hero, happily married, and maybe, just maybe, a little brat on the way. That was the dream his teenage self clung to—the vision he worked tirelessly to acheive.

At 26, Bakugou stood in the middle of your shared apartment, arms crossed and staring at the half-decorated Christmas tree with a deep scowl. Strings of golden lights glimmered around the tree’s branches, lengths of ribbons are accompanied by shimmering with faux flowers, and ornaments—carefully chosen by you—hung delicately in place.

The problem? The color scheme.

“What’s wrong with red and gold?”

“It’s boring,” Bakugou grumbled. “We do red and gold every year.”

“It’s classic!” you argued, turning to face him fully. “And it matches the rest of the apartment’s decor!”

He narrowed his eyes. He could not believe that he’s having this conversation with you right now.

“We could try something new for once. Like silver and blue.”

You gasped, clutching an ornament like he’d just insulted you personally—even cursed your entire bloodline and ancestors. “Silver and blue? Are you trying to make our tree look like a corporate lobby?”

“It’d look cooler than this,” he shot back, gesturing vaguely at the warm-toned ornaments. “This looks like something out of a cheesy holiday catalog.”

“And what’s wrong with cheesy?” you challenged.

Bakugou opened his mouth, then closed it. He didn’t actually have anything against cheesy—hell, he secretly loved how excited you got during the holidays. But arguing about it? That was part of the fun, if not a branch of his quality time as a love language.

“Whatever,” he muttered, grabbing a red bauble and hanging it perfectly on the tree. “You’re just scared to try something new.”

You laughed, walking over with another ornament to decorate with. “And you’re just scared because I’m right.”

As Bakugou worked to string the lights around the higher branches, you began unpacking the remaining ornaments from your storage box. You pulled out a small, slightly worn ornament in the shape of a star and held it up with a nostalgic smile.

“Do you remember this?”

He glanced down from the tree, frowning at the star in your hand. “Should I?”

No matter how much he tries to remember, he simply couldn’t recall what made this star so special that you had to ask him if he remembers it.

It’s a star, that’s for sure. A faded one at that.

You sighed, clearly unimpressed by his lack of sentimentality. “It’s the first ornament we bought together. Back when we were... what, eighteen?”

Bakugou paused. It had been a spur-of-the-moment purchase during a rare day off from hero training.

You had somehow convinced him to go with you to wander around a Christmas market, bickering over everything from what food stalls to visit to what decorations looked “cool.” You had insisted on the star, and Bakugou—reluctantly—agreed after a heated argument about which shape of star’s better.

“Are you having a flashback monologue right now?”

That brought out a scoff from him. “Fuck no. Just remembered how you were annoying as hell that day,” he muttered.

“And you were so stubborn, god. You kept saying it was pointless to buy an ornament because I didn’t even have a tree back in my dorm.”

“Yeah, and you said, ‘It's not about the tree; it's about the tradition.’ What kinda cheesy crap was that?”

“It's true, though!” you argued, accepting his hand to place the star gently on the tree’s highest branch. “And now, look. We still have it. And now we can buy all the Christmas trees we could ever want.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

As you continued decorating, the sound of your laughter and playful arguments filled the apartment, giving it a cozy home feel. By the time the tree was finished, Bakugou begrudgingly admitted to himself that it didn’t look half bad—even if it was the same colors as last year, though a decent fortune was spent for it to not be too repetitive.

It’s a good thing his work pays well (you split the cost of decorations equally; he just says that his work pays better even if yours is a lot higher than his).

You stepped back, admiring your work with a satisfied smile. “Perfect. Now, onto the Christmas Eve menu. I was thinking we could do something light this year—maybe roasted chicken and a salad?”

Bakugou groaned, collapsing onto the couch. “Salad? On Christmas Eve? No fucking way.”

“What’s wrong with salad?”

“Is your childhood a bland mess to have salad as one of the main foods? It’s boring,” he said, sticking his tongue out at you when you gave him a pointed look. “We should make something warm and filling.”

“Okay, but you’re helping.”

“Since when did I ever leave all the cookin’ to you?”

Now that he’s 26, standing in the modest yet cozy apartment he shares with you, he realizes that dreams don’t always come in the exact shape you imagine.

Sure, he doesn’t have the massive house he once envisioned, but this apartment—filled with laughter, memories, and the faint scent of your favorite candles—is more of a home than anything his younger self could have dreamed up. The framed photos of your milestones, the shelves of books, and even a few of his hero equipment with the tools scattered on his office—it’s all perfect in a way he didn’t know he needed.

And his career? Well, Dynamight isn’t the Number One Hero yet, but he’s close. Close enough that his younger self would sneer but grudgingly admit it’s not bad.

He’s built a solid name for himself, and he’s done it his way. His rank might not be where he wanted it to be at this age, but he’s learned something more valuable than being the best—he’s learned the importance of balance.

The last part of that dream? The wife? He looks toward the kitchen, where you’re humming some off-tune melody, beginning to prepare what Bakugou’s about to cook with for dinner. The sight of you, so comfortable and almost glowing in your shared space, makes his chest tighten.

He must have a heart problem by this point because it comes at him at the most unexpected times whenever he sees you.

No, he doesn’t have a wife yet. But he’s about to change that.

He’s been thinking about it for weeks now.

He’s got the ring—it’s hidden in the drawer under his socks, where he knows you won’t go snooping.

He knows you’ll say yes, but he would be damned if he didn’t admit that it made him a bit nervous. He knows because you look at him the same way he looks at you: like the world would become lighter and easier to conquer as long as you have the other.

But still, he waits.

Not because he’s unsure, but because he wants the timing to be perfect. Not rushed, not forced. He’s learned to be patient over the years.

“Kats, help with cutting the onions, please!”

“Yeah, yeah. Comin’!”

Soon, he’ll drop the question. He’s not in a rush. This is your life together, and it’s not perfect, but it is just right—chaotic, loud, and full of love. And when the time comes, he’ll make sure you know just how much you mean to him.

But you already know that, don’t you?

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